


Young blood

by D_writes



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Another HSAU, F/F, First Time, Murder, Sex, drug mention, this is a gritty HS AU, welcome to Gotham, you read that right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_writes/pseuds/D_writes
Summary: Helena Bertinelli comes back to Gotham as soon as she turns eighteen, and still has to finish high-school before embarking on her revenge.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 61
Kudos: 166





	1. New in town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [droamiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/droamiin/gifts).



American high schools were... different. Helena had spent three months at Gotham High and was still getting used to it. The most jarring thing is that she has to change room for each period, while back in Italy each group of students - a _classe_ \- had an assigned room and teachers would come in and out of it. A student would spend five years with the same couple of dozens of students.

In that respect, Helena prefers the American system. Changing classmates often meant she didn’t have to become their friend, or learn their names... if fact, she didn’t even have to talk to them. It was so much easier to keep to herself and focus.

And Helena needed to focus.

Coming back to Gotham was a risk, she knew that. Salvo and Massimo were not happy about it, but there was not much they could do once she turned eighteen. “It’s too soon” Salvatore argued. But they had a deal, and if there was one thing the Sicilian assassins valued was their word.

Finishing high school was part of the deal. Helena was already lagging a couple of years behind. It had been extremely hard for her to integrate in school after _the fact._ She’d been non-verbal for almost a year, and when she finally started speaking again, she was thrown into a middle school where they only spoke Italian. It took a while to get the hang of things, but she discovered she got a knack for languages in the process, so that wasn’t the worst. She never fit in, though, especially after the growth spur she went through at sixteen. She stuck out like a sore thumb among her younger classmates. She couldn’t fucking wait to leave Italy.

It was much easier to go unnoticed in Gotham.

“Hey” the girl sitting next to her greets her with a dimpled smile and Helena nods in return. She earns an amused look and feels a little self-conscious. The girl looks friendly and that’s exactly the kind of person Helena tries to avoid.

“Hey Dinah” someone else calls the girl and Helena feels a little relieved those amber eyes are not scrutinising her anymore. Does she have something on her face? She pulls out a pocket mirror to check her face and, why not, her make up.

The girl - Dinah, apparently - exchanges a couple of books for the next period with another girl - Pamela - and makes some plans for lunch. Helena doesn’t mean to listen, but there’s something about her voice that demands attention. Everything else becomes background noise. Funny, Helena thinks, and misses what page number the teacher has just announced.

She bites her lip when she realises everybody else hasn’t, and she’d rather shoot herself in the foot than ask Miss Lehane to repeat it, so when Dinah opens her book, she tries to peek at the page number. Dinah catches her immediately, but instead of being a dick about it, she shifts her position so Helena can have a better view.

Feeling caught, Helena quickly shuffles the pages with a huff, but can’t help noticing Dinah’s shoulders moving up and down in a silent chuckle. She doesn’t mean to, but ends up looking at her again. There’s that smile again. Helena doesn’t quite get it, but whatever: if she wants to smile she can do so all she wants. Weirdo.

* * *

“...in pairs. Deadline is Monday 25th.” Miss Lehane words are swallowed by the sound of the bell.

“Fuck” Helena mutters. _Group projects? What the hell American school system. That’s a low blow._

“What’s up? Don’t like working with people?”

_Damn this Dinah girl's friendly. How do I get out of this?_

“Not much” Helena mumbles.

“You’re new, right? I’m Dinah.”

Dinah offers a hand and Helena hesitates a moment to grab it, but eventually does so. There’s no point being rude, it would only get more attention.

“Helena. Yeah, moved here a few months ago.”

“Where from?”

_She really doesn’t mind her own business, huh?_

“Italy.”

“No way! I thought you were gonna say New Jersey or something like that.”

Helena is not sure how to reply to that, so she just shrugs.

“Do you have a partner for the project?”

“Nah, I don’t know anyone, but I can do it by myself.”

Dinah gives her a look that’s between surprised and condescending, which immediately gets on Helena’s nerves.

“You’re not familiar with Miss Lehane methods, uh? You don’t have a choice, you’re going to fail her class if you don’t do exactly as you’re told. She’s got a bit of a power thing, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t, though” Helena says through gritted teeth. Dinah visibly winces, taken aback but the caustic reaction.

“Uncalled for” she comments, putting her books in her bag. Helena wouldn’t normally mind, but today for some reasons she feels guilty about it. Dinah was just trying to be nice, after all.

“Sorry, I just... group projects are the worst. I don’t have three hours to waste discussing ‘ways of working’ and shit, I have stuff to do.”

“Same. I work evenings, but all my friends don’t and they drag our project meetings for hours” Dinah sighs.

“You serious about failing the class?” Helena checks, and Dinah nods sympathetically. “Fuck” Helena repeats, and drops her head back.

“Maybe we can work together” Dinah says after a thoughtful pause. Helena bounces her head back to its original position and gives her a questioning look. “We can plan for it in an hour, do most of the work on our own, in our own time.”

Yeah, that could work, Helena thinks. There’s a hopeful look in Dinah’s eyes, but it starts to fade when Helena takes too long to reply.

“Yeah, sure” she finally says.

Helena hands her phone to Dinah to input her contact, and she diligently adds it then calls herself. She hands the phone back without a word. She’s already turned her back to leave the room when Helena speaks again.

“Hey...” there’s a hesitation in her voice, so Dinah turns to face her again. “Thank you.”

It looks like it’s taking all of Helena’s willpower to let the words out, and Dinah finds it somehow endearing. The dimpled smile comes back, in full force, before she turns on her heels and disappears in the crowded corridor.

* * *

_Dinah Eng Lit, 10:34 “I have a free period at 3 pm, want to meet in the library and get some stuff done?”_

It’s a pretty simple text. There’s no need to overthink it. That doesn’t stop Helena, of course. Maybe failing the class wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Was passing really worth the ordeal of having to work with someone else? What if Dinah started asking questions? What if she wanted to be friends? The girl was a little ball of sunshine full of good intentions. A normal person would have told Helena to fuck right off when she snapped. She’d been so rude, she couldn’t believe Dinah shrugged it off like that.

_Helena (tall), 10:45 “Sure, see you there.”_

Helena makes her way to the canteen. It’s probably her least favourite place in the entire school. It’s always packed with people and it smells like bad food. Cause the food is _bad_. So bad. Helena brings her own any time she can, but she doesn’t always have time to cook. Today is one of those unlucky days - and on top of that, the only viable option is pasta. The wannabe fusilli look at her, pale and floppy, barely covered in a meat-based sauce they have the nerve to call bolognese.

She spots a half-empty table and takes the seat furthest from the group sitting at the other end. She pokes the pasta with her fork, trying to mix the clumpy sauce.

 _You gotta eat,_ she tells herself, thinking about the training she’s planning for later. She can’t afford to skip meals if she wants to keep in shape. She’s already lost muscle mass since she moved to that states, and that’s not good.

It must be the sorry state of that pasta dish that makes her look up and around the room, scanning the tables. There’s a girl from calculus she’s met before, she’s probably seen the guy next to her too. A group of dudes in varsity jackets she guesses are in the football team, but only because she saw that on TV at some point. A girl in fishnets and boots is doing a headstand on a bench, her brightly coloured hair almost dipping into the plate in front of her.

“Harley, Jesus! Can you just eat like a human being for once?”

Helena recognises the voice immediately, and her eyes automatically look for its owner. And find her. This Harley girl replies something Helena doesn’t hear, because Dinah has found her too and is now waving at her. It’s more of a finger wiggle, Helena thinks, subtle and delicate. Almost secret.

_Fuck._

Dinah is the first person to notice her in a communal space. No one’s ever acknowledged her existence outside the classroom, and that was the goal. Helena tries to hide her discomfort with a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod. Dinah seems satisfied and gives her a smirk before sitting in front of the blonde acrobat, who is now cackling hysterically.

 _Ok, false alarm._ Helena sighs, happy Dinah hasn’t decided to sit close to her.

Pamela from English literature joins the group, followed by what Helena can only identify as a rich white kid. He tries to blend in, with his plain black sweater and non-descriptive denim, but Helena knows an expensive watch when she sees one. Prada shoes. Pirelli backpack. Gucci sunglasses. Italy was overflowing with that type of asshole. Salvo used to make fun of them every time they went to Milan.

He leans over to kiss Dinah - a little too enthusiastically for a public space, Helena thinks. She quickly looks away, feeling she’s intruding.

* * *

“You’re late” Dinah comments as Helena drops onto the chair next to her.

“What?” Helena frantically pulls out her phone to check the time. 14:59.

“I’m just kidding, you seem like the kind of person who worries about that kind of stuff.” Dinah laughs a little, and Helena feels a quiet anger bubbling up. She does not appreciate being made fun of. “And I was right” Dinah adds.

 _This girl smiles a lot_ \- Helena thinks, watching Dinah grin cockily.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you don’t stop frowning, you know?”

Helena instinctively brings a hand to the top of her nose, where she can feel the tension knitting her eyebrows together.

“Whatever” she mumbles.

“Alright, so: without further ado, since we’re both super busy, I thought we could pick the theme of alienation in different types of totalitarian regimes. You take Kafka, I take Orwell, next time we meet we draw the conclusions - similarity and differences. Bam, A +.”

Helena gives her a wary look that Dinah doesn’t know how to read.

“Unless you have another idea?”

“No, that sounds... very good, actually. I was thinking we could try with ‘the city as a metaphor’, but that’s interesting too.”

“Yeah that’d be cool, but I think we’re going to spread ourselves thin, we need at least 5 different examples to make a point. Authors’ comparison is more effective.”

“I agree. Completely.” Helena nods, her lips unwillingly curling up in an approving smirk.

“Nice! Let’s check out the books and get on with it.” Dinah says, bumping their shoulders together.

 _That was quick._ Helena thinks as they make their way to the right shelf. Which is good. Very good. She needs to get back to her flat and get on with the training. They separate briefly to pick their respective books, and Dinah also checks out Marx’s Theory of Alienation.

“Gonna pull out a couple of quotes from this one too,” she says with a wink.

“Good call” Helena admits “there’s another copy, I’ll give it a read too.” Dinah raises an eyebrow, to which Helena explains: “I want to do my part. You’ve already done a lot, the essay is basically planned out.”

“Alright” Dinah picks the second copy from the shelf and hands it over to Helena “Let’s hope they don’t think we’re going to start a commune with all this Marx in our hands.”

* * *

“Who’s the girl?”

Harley sneaks up behind Dinah and makes her jump.

“Harley, what is your problem?” She seethes “I almost dropped my books.”

“She’s hot.”

“What?”

“Have you seen those shoulders? I bet she’s on the lacrosse team. Or maybe basketball? She’s pretty tall. I’m also digging the dishevelled hair and the emo vibe.”

“Harley, what do you want?”

“Just checking if you’ve finally joined my team!”

“You know I’m dating Oliver.”

“Irrelevant! I want to know if Miss Dark & Mysterious piqued your interest. Does she tickle your pickle? Does she-”

“We’re just doing a group project together, cut it. She’s new in town, moved from Italy, she doesn’t know anyone.”

“Ok first of all: you got more intel on her than anyone else, and I have asked around, trust me. And second: you need to check your nurse syndrome.”

“My what now?”

“Your need to help every sad soul who comes your way. You are on a scholarship, you can’t afford to risk a bad project partner!”

“You don’t know that about her!”

“And you don’t either.”

“You’re just upset because I didn’t ask Pamela and we’re not hanging out this afternoon. I don’t have time to wait for you two to stop making out to get stuff done.”

Harley huffs dramatically, but she’s quickly distracted by a flyer about a party and starts planning how to spike every drink with vodka and glitter up every door handle with vaseline. Dinah wonders what has she done wrong to end up with Harleen Quinzel as a friend.


	2. First blood

Helena likes Gotham at night better. The traffic moves faster, the neon signs give the streets a fluorescent aura. Gotham at night is alive and has teeth. Like her.

Sicily was always quiet after dark. _Un Idillio,_ Salvo would call it. A countryside peaceful scene - pinkish hue in the sky, crickets in the distance, the whole thing. It never matched the turmoil inside her, not like Gotham. She always knew she wanted to come back.

Her memories of the big city were foggy at best, she was only nine when they took her away. When they took everything away from her. But she remembers the noise, the lights, the concrete. She remembers the faceless crowds, the feeling of anonymity. She had missed that.

It’s taken her three months of tireless work to find them, but she did. They’re all still connected somehow. Galante was easy to find. He liked to show off and went around in an old Bentley, constantly surrounded by bodyguards. Two were from his old firing squad. Bingo. The third guy from the squad had gone to prison and when he got out, Galante didn’t take him back. He had jumped teams and started driving one of Sionis’ coke-taxis, selling drugs in Gotham financial district. The mobster ironically christened him Happy and it stuck. He was the easy target.

The hard one turned out to be Szasz, who graduated from Galante’s lackey to Sionis’ right-hand man. She isn’t sure how he got there, but word on the street is Sionis had a thing for bubble butts and self-inflicted scars. To each their own.

Helena spots Happy’s car in an alley. She’s memorised the make, model and plaque number, and carefully mapped out his work area. She can find him any night. She follows him at a distance on her bike, watching as a guy in a suit gets in his car and then off two blocks down. The exchange is quick, cash for bags, in and out.

It takes two hours for Happy to take a break. Helena takes mental notes of his routine. He parks in a side alley, where a few prostitutes smoking against a wall. He wiggles out of the car seat, too tall to properly fit in it, his knee pushing against the steering wheel as he gets off. He dips his car key into a small bag and brings a lump of white powder to his nose, quickly sniffing it up, then licks the key clean.

One of the girls approaches him, swinging her hips. Helena can’t hear the conversation but it’s not hard to guess. She points to a window upstairs, but he points to his car. She hesitates. He shows her some bills. She gives in.

Helena follows them a few blocks down, and into an abandoned building. She watches as he takes more blow and offers it to the girl, who refuses. He shrugs. Helena can hear the sound of his zipper and thanks God she’s behind him so she doesn’t have to see what’s about to happen. She wants to leave, especially when she starts hearing some sloppy noises, but this little vice of his could bring a good opportunity to catch him off guard in the future. 

“You’re not doing it right” he grunts.

“It’s not me, honey, it’s that shit you’re taking” she argues “Blow does that.”

Helena files that fact under Things She Didn’t Need to Know. Apparently Happy is having a hard time having a ‘hard time’.

“Put a bit more effort in it, you skunk.”

He grabs her hair and pushed her head back where he wants it to be. It takes an eternity for him to finally admit this is not going anywhere.

“Fuck off” he finally blurts, pushing her away.

“You want me to do that other thing for a bit? I know what you like, big boy.” she proposes, and Helena dry heaves.

“Shut up.”

“Fine, do I still get my money?” her tone is cold now, she’s done trying to please him.

“I said shut up!” he yells, lunging forward. His hands are quick on her neck, almost too big to grasp properly. She tries to get away, scratching him forearms and kicking to no avail. Helena can see her face turning livid and her eyes rolling back.

_Fuck, he’s going to kill her._

The suffocated noise that comes from the girl’s throat sends a shiver down Helena’s spine.

_It’s too soon. Too soon._

The silence in the building is eerie. Helena can almost hear the life leaving the woman’s body. It’s too much.

The arrow pierces Happy’s throat without a sound. His hands loosen around the woman’s neck, droplets of blood spray on them and her face. He takes a few steps that want to be forward but end up sideways before falling to the ground. He’s still breathing, the blood bubbles through the hole in his neck and slowly trickles down the bolt.

The woman looks horrified. She’s shaking from head to toe, her cough soon turning into weeping. Part of Helena thinks she should help her, get her back on her feet, drive her home. She wants to feel sympathy for her, she wants to tell her that she knows what it is like to watch someone die, to watch their body hit the ground and the spark slowly disappear from their eyes.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t feel anything.

* * *

“Who the fuck uses bow and arrows?” agent Miller scoffs, kneeling next to the body. The anonymous call came half an hour ago, the body was still warm.

“Not a bow and arrow, the bolt is too short. That’s from a crossbow.” Detective Montoya corrects him. Miller pushes the twisted body with his boot, and Montoya looks away with a grimace.

“Jesus, cover that thing.” She says when she realises his pants are still halfway down his legs.

“Not your cup of tea?”

“You could say that. Get ballistic to find where the shot came from. Looks like there’s no blood splatter except for his hands, so my guess is that someone was right in front of him. And by the state of his pants and the scratches on his arms, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it was a prostitute. Maybe she’s the one who called us.”

“But the bolt came from behind him” Miller argues.

“She didn’t kill him. We gotta find out who did.”

* * *

Helena wonders if she should feel any different. Her first kill went pretty smoothly, even if it was unplanned. She’s been waiting so long for this. Then why is there no joy, not even a shred of satisfaction?

The anger is still there, the only real constant in her life. She had hoped planting an arrow in Happy’s throat would give her at least some relief. Instead, it only added to it. Now the police will be looking for her. Even worst, Sionis may realise one of his drivers got killed. His car was still parked in that alley, full of cash and bags of cocaine. Hopefully, those women made something out of it.

“Hey!”

Helena almost jumps and slams the door of her locker shut.

“What?” she blurts, not too happy to be caught off guard.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Dinah chuckles at her disproportionate reaction, whilst leaning against the lockers.

“I’m not scared!” Helena replies, a little too loud.

Dinah’s lips part in a tentative grin, that grows into a smile that eventually reaches her eyes when Helena has to re-open her locker because she didn’t grab half of her stuff.

“What do you want?” she mumbles. Dinah is starting to get on her nerves with her condescending attitude, and the fact that she seems to manage to catch her off guard. It’s embarrassing. What would Salvo think? The thought makes her face heat up.

_Stay calm, Helena, You can’t get out of this one with a knife._

She makes her way to her class and Dinah follows.

“I’m free tomorrow afternoon if you want to catch up on the project, I have an hour around 5 pm”

“Fine” she concedes, dryly.

“Shall we meet at your place?” She sounds a little less cocky, Helena prefers that. 

“What? No, we meet at the library, like last time. Don’t you have somewhere to be now?”

“We both have biology, asshole,” Dinah says, speeding up and getting into the classroom.

* * *

“Hello, darling” Pamela greets Dinah with a wide grin. Biology is her favourite subject and not even Dinah’s bad mood can ruin it.

“Hey” is all she gets in return.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Mh?”

“Did you fight with Oliver?”

“No, everything’s fine with Ollie.”

Pamela watches Helena get into class and look around, stopping only when she sees Dinah. Her shoulders drop, and she looks disappointed. She takes a seat at the front of the room, and gives one last look behind her shoulder. Dinah is definitely ignoring her on purpose.

“Your new friend is looking for you.”

“I don’t think so” Dinah scoffs, earning a questioning look from her friend.

* * *

Helena has trouble focusing. Which is weird. She never has trouble with focus. Quite the opposite, in fact. She focusses so much on tasks people can hardly get her attention. She’s proud of her discipline and self-control, of how she gets things done efficiently. So this is really fucking inconvenient.

So what if she snapped at Dinah? She has a lot going on. She doesn’t have time to tiptoe around her, if she can’t take it then she can stop sticking around. It’s not like she asked her to talk to her in the hallway. That’s why they have phones.

How was she supposed to know they both had biology anyway? Most of all, how did Dinah know? It’s the first class they have after they started talking, surely Dinah didn’t notice her before that.

...

Or did she?

* * *

“Hey babe” Oliver is waiting for her on a bench. Dinah takes a seat next to him and greets him with a kiss that’s asking for comfort. It’s soft and deliberate and he sighs into it.

“Wow.” He lets out.

“Hi” she tilts her head lightly “How was your day?”

He scrunches his nose, making a guttural noise. “My dad’s being a dick again. My grades have dropped since last month and he’s threatening to cut my trust fund.”

“You’ve been partying pretty hard, Mr Queen,” she points out.

“I don’t need this from you too” he sighs “You know I’m trying to get my night off the ground, I need to be there. I’m already stressed out. Will you come tomorrow?”

Dinah knows Oliver has been trying to make it as a professional DJ for the past year their passion for music is what drew them to each other after all. His father obviously thinks it’s a waste of time, since he’s going to inherit the family fortune, and then he’ll be able to buy every club in town.

“You know I work weekends,” she replies.

“Can you swap?” he whines.

“I need the tips, we talked about this.”

“I’ll cover for that, you know it’s not a problem.”

Dinah shuffles a little, considering the idea.

“Come on, I can take to that Italian restaurant you like before the gig.”

She doesn’t like to change her schedule last minute, and most of all she doesn’t like when Oliver pays for her. But she does want to support him. She’s still pondering what to do when a shadow appears on the ground, right where she’s looking.

“Hey.”

Helena is standing, stiff as ever, both hands gripping the strap of her backpack. Dinah doesn’t feel like talking to her. Thankfully, Oliver doesn’t mind taking over.

“Hi! I’m Oliver. You’re Helena from English lit right?”

Helena looks at the hand he’s offering with something between surprise and spite. Dinah thinks she should have warned him.

“Do I know you?” Helena asks. It’s blunt and rude but Dinah finds it somehow funny. This new girl really doesn’t know how to manage basic social interactions. At least it’s not personal, Dinah decides.

“We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Dinah’s boyfriend.”

 _Oh so he’s also relentlessly friendly_ , Helena thinks as she shakes his hand, maybe squeezing a bit harder than necessary.

“We’re supposed to meet in thirty minutes” Dinah finally says, checking the time.

Helena suddenly feels self-conscious she interrupted them. Dinah did say didn’t have much time so of course she would want to spend some in peace with her boyfriend. This was a bad idea. The embarrassment colours her cheeks a little, but now she’s there, and she doesn’t want things to get even weirder. They still have to work together.

“Yeah, right, I just...” Helena’s hands grip the shoulder strap a bit tighter, her head drops “I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier.”

Her eyes explore the ground for a bit, her frown a little deeper than usual. Dinah’s small “Oh” tells her she’s surprised. Maybe this was unnecessary. _Shit._

“I’ll see you in the library.” Helena adds, then leaves before she can reply. Dinah watches her walk away, her pace picking up until she’s effectively running.

“She’s a little weird uh?” Oliver comments. Dinah replies with a soft hum.

* * *

“You’re late” Helena mumbles when she finally arrives. Dinah checks her phone. 16:46.

There’s a tentative smirk on Helena’s lips, barely there, hidden behind the untamed hair that covers her face as she looks down at the table.

“Oh, we’re being funny now” Dinah comments. She doesn’t mean to smile so wide, she’s still a little hurt, but something tells her this is kind of a big deal. Helena shrugs, something tugging the end of her lips. Half a grin, Dinah figures. Helena’s eyes dart to hers, but it’s just a moment before she clears her throat and pulls out her laptop.

“I’ve prepared a shared document, give me your email so I can add you as an editor.”

They sort out the technicalities and Dinah pastes her notes in the document. They sit in silence for a bit, reading each other's half of the essay.

“That’s pretty good,” Dinah says, relieved.

“You seem surprised” Helena comments.

“Well we never worked together before, and I’m here on a scholarship so I took a bit of a risk there. I mean it’s no big, I could whip out a good essay for both of us, but it’s good to see you’re pulling your weight.” Something passes through Helena’s eyes, Dinah can’t quite pinpoint what it is, too quick for her to fully catch. “Our writing style is pretty different though. Your sentences are so long!”

“I know” Helena scrunches her face “Italian uses subordinates a lot. I’m still trying to get used to English.”

“Your English is perfect, you don’t even have an accent.”

“I was born here but went to school there. My first language is English but I’ve always written in Italian, moved there when I was a kid. It kinda stays with you... Sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Cause we’re friends?” Dinah scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.“Anyway, thanks for making this fairly painless. Are you ok with me editing your bit to match my writing?”

“Sure, yeah, thanks. I’ll do the bibliography then.” If Helena’s voice shakes a little, Dinah doesn’t notice.

“Oh good, I hate doing that.”

There it is again. That little spark. This time Dinah is pretty sure it’s a positive emotion. Pride, maybe? She doesn’t have time to dwell on it, her shift starts in a couple of hours.

“I gotta go now, I’m working tonight.”

It’s weird, Helena thinks. Dinah leaving her alone is a good thing, she needs to train, to meditate, to finish her calculus homework. She needs to fill her tank and cook a decent, protein-filled meal. Then why does she feel this sudden sadness when she looks at her packing her laptop? Why is she putting her own laptop away, when she could be staying at the library to finish the bibliography? Why is she standing up and following Dinah?

The girl doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it, she just keeps chatting and Helena keeps listening.

“...and wants me to go see him DJing at this party tomorrow, but I don’t want to skip my shift cause I’m kinda broke right now.”

“I thought you were on a scholarship?” Helena asks, because apparently that’s a thing she does now.

“It’s not enough for rent and bills, it just covers the tuition” she sighs. She can see the cogs moving in Helena’s brain, how she’s formulating the obvious conclusion in her mind, so she just confirms it for her. “My mom died a couple of years ago. She was my only family.”

The silence between them suddenly becomes a little heavier. Dinah smiles again, but this time even Helena can see it’s hiding something else, something painful. Two years. That’s fresh.

“I lost all my family when I was nine.”

The words are out her mouth before she can stop herself. She doesn’t know why she did, it’s definitely a bad idea to disclose that. She’s in Gotham under a fake name and she can’t afford to be recognised. Especially not after Happy. But Dinah looked so sad, and she just...

“I don’t mean to say I got it worse” she adds, quickly, when she sees the surprise on the other girl’s face “just that... I get it.”

“Helena...”

To hear her own name spoken so softly makes her stop in her track. Fuck, what was she thinking? This is dumb, and it makes her feel angry again. Her fist is tightly gripped around a pencil, and she would end up snapping it if it weren’t for the hand that’s now around it, touching her it in a way Helena has never been familiar with. Before she can follow the instinct to run through the corridor and out in the courtyard, Dinah’s arms are around her waits and she’s pulled in a tight hug.

She can’t quite react, not right away. Her entire body stiffens at all the unfamiliar sensations: the scent, especially, shea butter she thinks, maybe coconut. The beads in Dinah’s hair pressed on her cheek, cold against her heated skin.

The pencil cracks in her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Helena” Dinah says when they part “I had no idea.”

Helena shrugs, trying to ignore that she feels a twitch in her eyes and a knot in her throat.

“Anyway, you should focus on your plans,” she says after clearing her throat “not on your boyfriend. He sounds like a spoiled brat. No offence.”

Dinah gives her a weird look.

“He’s just a bit... sheltered, but he cares. And he wants me to care the same way for him, which is fair.”

“You’re not in the same position, though.”

“Just because I’m broke doesn’t mean I’m less than him.” 

By the change in Dinah's tone, Helena figures she may have accidentally struck a nerve.

“That’s not what I meant. You have your own goals and ambitions and it takes a lot of energy to live alone, manage school and all that shit. You’re an adult, he’s a kid.”

“You don’t know him!” Dinah’s the one who snaps this time, and to be on the receiving end of that gives Helena a bit of perspective.

“Sorry” She’s apologising a lot, and that’s not something she’s used to. _Is this how having friends works?_ “You’re right. And it’s none of my business.”

Dinah nods, because yeah, it isn’t. Helena and her love life have nothing to do with each other. 


	3. Biting bullets

“Babe, that’s was... incredible” Oliver plops on the mattress next to her, panting lightly. He carefully peels off the condom and ties it up with a knot before turning to Dinah again, kissing her gently.

“I gotta pee,” she says when they part “can’t afford a UTI.”

He watches her as she walks to his bathroom, admiring the curve of her hips, the golden glow of her skin. Once she disappears behind the door, he lays back with his hands behind his head, pondering how he got so lucky.

“Can I take a picture of you?” he asks when she finally gets out of the bathroom.

“What, now?”

“Yeah” he insists, opening the camera on his phone “You’re so beautiful, I just want to have a little souvenir, for those times we’re apart.”

“Not naked” she replies, a little uneasy.

“Why not? It’s not like I haven’t seen you.” He points the camera towards her, waiting for her nipple piercings to come in the frame.

“Stop it, Oliver” she uses his full name so he knows she’s serious. “I’m not comfortable with it.”

“Just one.”

She’s already put her pants back on when she hears the sound of the shutter.

“Delete that immediately” she jumps on the bed and tries to grab his phone, but he pulls his hand away quickly enough. “Please, Oliver” she pleads, her voice shaking with anger while he laughs, holding her wrist so she can’t reach his phone. It’s only when he sees tears forming in her eyes that he realises how distressed she is.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, here, you can delete it yourself” he hands over the phone and Dinah deletes the picture immediately, swiping left and right for good measure to check it was only one. She gracelessly throws the phone onto the mattress and gives him a look he does not appreciate.

“It kinds suck you don’t trust me” he mumbles.

“You know I do, It’s just... you never know who can get hold of your phone. I’m not comfortable with having nudes out in the world.”

“Half nudes” he corrects her.

“Anyway, I got some good news,” she hopes that changing the topic will release the uneasiness at the bottom of her stomach, “I got a gig.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s awesome!”

“Well, it’s at the bar I work at, on a Tuesday. I feel like Barry is setting me up for failure, but I gotta try. Maybe I’ll be lucky.”

“Wait, next Tuesday? Fuck, my dad said I need to have dinner with them.”

“Is he still trying to set you up with a nice white girl?”

“There’s a chance.”

“But you’re not going, are you?”

“You know how he is...”

“I did change my shift for tomorrow to come see you.” Dinah reminds him.

He looks down for a moment, exhaling more loudly than necessary. Then, in a moment of resolution, he says: “You know what? You’re right. I’ll be there, it’s the least I can do.”

* * *

“Did you tell him?”

Harley skates up with Dinah and circles her a couple of times before matching the pace of her walk.

“Harley, I swear to God one day I’m going to feed you to one of Pamela’s plants.”

“Cool cool cool, but did you tell him?” she insists, ignoring her threat.

“No” Dinah admits, wrapping her arms around her stomach, almost as protection. Talking to Harley about her sex life was a bad idea, and now she feels too exposed.

“You have to tell him, Dinah, you can’t keep having sub-standard intercourse, you deserve to be fucked _right_.”

“Harley” she hisses, then, with a softer voice, she adds “It’s not him, it’s me. I’m too stressed with work and deadlines.”

“Do you or do you not finish the job in the bathroom?”

“We are not talking about this” Dinah tries to speed up, but Harley can easily keep up with her on her skates.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Leave me alone”

Dinah makes a sharp turn and goes up some stairs, leaving Harley at the bottom, shouting: “Pamela and I will be there on Tuesday! Whoo-hoo! Go Dinah!” She yells a few more cheers, but Dinah can’t quite catch them.

* * *

Helena’s never felt so nervous in her entire life. What if she says no? This is a bad idea. Or is it? It can’t hurt to ask. Then why does she have a feeling she’s about to crash against a brick wall at full speed?

“Hey Dinah, would you like to- no. Hi, Dinah. I was thinking, since we’re both... since you’re... Hello. I have a proposal. Mmmh. Dinah, I-”

“What?” Dinah looks at her with half a smile and a question in her eyes. Helena realises she’s walked up to her.

“Dinah! Hi.” Helena blurts out, wondering how much she heard.

“Were you talking to me? Sorry, my head is a bit all over the place today.”

“Right. No, I was just... no. But I wanted to ask you something.”

Helena fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt, unable to hold eye contact for more than a second.

“Shoot” she replies casually.

“Right. So I was thinking, like, we’re both very busy, and we have four classes together, right?”

Dinah makes a little internal calculation then nods. Funny, she thinks, up until last week Helena didn’t even know they had biology together.

“So... maybe we can share homework.” The end of her sentence is a little muffled, because for some reason Helena’s mouth decided it was the right moment to start chewing on the skin of her thumb.

“Share homework?” Dinah repeats, a little incredulous.

“Do half each, save time. I-I thought we worked well together. We got that A+ on the essay, as you said. Ms Summers gives “randomised” homework but we just need to sit four seats apart to get the same assignment, she gives them out in a pattern. So dumb. And biology has two group projects coming up, I checked.”

“Wow, you really thought this through, huh?” Dinah teases, noticing the small stutter in her voice. Helena’s not sure why she’s blushing up to the tip of her ears, but she has no doubt Dinah noticed and that this was officially a terrible idea.

“Sounds cool, as long as you’re as good at math as you are in English.”

“I am!” Helena says, maybe a bit too quickly and with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Deal,” Dinah says, offering a fist bump that’s clumsily reciprocated.

“Wanna start tonight?” Helena suggests, more eagerly than she’d like.

“I can’t...”

“Oh right, you’re working,” Helena recalls from their earlier conversation. Dinah decides not to correct her, instead she appreciates that she remembered.

“Hey, are you busy next Tuesday?”

“I can do 5 till 7, I have something important coming up in the evening,” Helena says, wondering why she felt the need give out the unnecessary detail.

“Oh, ok. It’s just... I have this gig coming up, I’m trying to get some people at the bar.”

“Gig?” Helena tilts her head like a big confused puppy.

“It’s stupid, I know, I should focus on my studies right now, but I’m actually trying to start a career as a singer. My boss caved in and gave me Tuesday night. It’s a quiet night so I’m trying to get people in, show him I’m a good investment.”

Helena is intrigued, she’s never listened to someone singing live, she’s never even considered that’s a thing real people do. Artists exist in a different world and only cross hers at convenient times. Like Galante and his bodyguard being at a vernissage in a small art gallery in the East Side on Tuesday. A perfect opportunity to catch them off guard. She can’t miss it.

“I really can’t.”

“No, of course. I had to try” Dinah smile looks forced, but it’s as beautiful as always. Helena’s stomach twists a little when she realises how unusual that kind of thought is for her.

“What do you have to do that’s more important than supporting your friend?”

Neither of them has noticed Harley standing right beside them, hands on her hips.

“Harleen, mind your own business for once” Dinah sighs. Harley ignores her, turning her attention to Helena.

“Hi, I’m Harley, Dinah’s best friend” she stretches her arm and offers a hand, but not the way Helena expects her to. The palm’s facing down, her wrist limp. Does she want her to... kiss it? In doubt, Helena grabs it and gives it one firm shake. The girl doesn’t get discouraged. Instead, she takes Helena by the arm and pulls her aside.

“Mind if I take her for a minute?” she asks Dinah, clearly not waiting for an answer as she drags Helena away.

“Listen up, you mopey jock - uh, those are some guns!” Harley gets distracted by the feeling of Helena’s muscles under her fingers, and she gives a second squeeze for good measure. Helena pulls her arm away and gives her a look that would make anyone else run for their life - but not Harley Quinn, apparently. “You’re right, let’s focus. It’s very important we show up for her next Tuesday. She’s been trying to get an opportunity for months.”

Helena gives her a blank stare.

“I know you like her” Harley whispers, a little aggressively.

“What?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, Miss I-Want-To-Spend-Time-with-You-So-Bad-Let’s-Do-Homework-Together” Harley mocks.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Helena’s hand are on her shirt and she’s pushing her against the lockers, making the whole row rattle. Harley lets out a small cackle, seemingly enjoying the interaction.

“Struck a nerve there, dollface?”

Harley is pulled up and forced on her tiptoes, which only adds to her delight. Helena’s face is barely an inch from hers and she considers placing a peck on her nose, see how angry she can get her.

“Helena!” Dinah runs up to them. Her grip immediately relaxes and she lets Dinah push them apart. “Harley, what did you tell her?”

“Hey, what’s up with victim-blaming?” she says, pretending to be shocked. Dinah gives her a spectacular eye roll before turning to Helena, only to see her walking away.

“I’m going to murder you” she snarls before running after Helena. “Hey, Helena, wait!”

“Leave me alone” she mumbles, looking at the ground.

“I’m sorry about Harley, she can be a dick sometimes. Don’t listen to her” Dinah places herself right on Helena’s path, forcing her to stop “she’s just trying to do me a favour, but there’s no pressure about Tuesday, ok?” she tucks a stray hair behind Helena’s ear with an ease that surprises both. Helena’s eyes grow wide, and Dinah quickly pulls back. The ghost of her fingers around her ear makes her whole body tingle.

Oh.

Oh no.

Harley was right.

* * *

The party starts later than she would like. It’s in a refurbished warehouse someone turned into a club. There are no drinks on tap and the sound system makes the wall shake. It’s powerful, but Dinah prefers a more balanced sound.

Dinner was nice. She does love Italian food and Oliver took her to a real one, making sure he pointed out which dishes are usually butchered in less pretentious restaurant. Because the place was pretentious, and obscenely expensive, and Dinah had felt completely out of her element. Oliver had shown up in torn-up jeans and an old sweater, yet she was the one who felt underdressed. She admires how he just doesn’t care about what people think.

He’s waiting for someone to finish his set, talking to the owner of the place, a blond guy trying too hard to grow a bread that won’t be full for at least a few years. Dinah wonders how he can afford a place like that at his age. He must be just a couple of year older than them.

The people around her are already drunk, a girl offers her something from a small bag, she politely declines. She’s very affectionate and Dinah struggles to pull away from her, her arm solidly wrapped around her waist. She suddenly remembers how much being the only sober person at a techno party sucks.

Oliver set finally starts when it’s almost midnight, and she braces herself for two hours of deafening noise.

* * *

“You’re drunk” are the first words out of her mouth when Oliver finally steps down from the Dj booth and joins her at the bar. He doesn’t hear her over the sound of the next set.

“Was it lit or was it lit?” he yells, holding his beer bottle up, cheering. “Let’s get you something!” he snaps his fingers at the bartender, points at his bottle, and signs for two more.

“I’m not drinking, and neither should you, you’re eighteen” she yells back “Can we go?”

“What? Babe, come one! The night has just started. Look what I got for you” He shows her a small bag with three pills inside, just like the one she was offered earlier. “One for me, one for you, half again in 4 hours. It’s going to make you feel so good, baby. First time on Molly is special, I promise.”

“Are you out of your mind? I don’t so that shit. And you know I’m working all weekend.”

“Here” he hands her four hundred dollar bills he keeps loose in his pockets. “Does that cover it?”

She looks at the money, then at his smug smile. “Fuck off” she scoffs.

“Oh, now you’re too good for it? You didn’t say no to the money I gave you earlier. Or dinner. Is that how you thank me?”

“I’m going home.” She says, turning on her heels and disappearing through the crowd.

* * *

“And you guys haven’t spoken yet?” Pamela asks her, wide-eyed.

“We spoke over text, just not about it. I’m kinda worried about him, he’s probably still hangover from a three-day bender,” she sighs.

“Ollie knows how to have fun” Harley admits, looking dramatically pensive.

“Dinah, sweetie, you’re too nice to him. He’s a jackass and his father runs a fucking oil company.” Pamela just had to point that out, even if it’s not exactly relevant to the conversation. She just read the yearly report on carbon emissions and she’s furious.

“I’m the one who left him alone at the party.”

Pamela rolls her eyes and tries to muster all her patience because Dinah needs to have it spelt out to her.

“Look, I like Ollie. He’s fun to hang out and-”

“She’s lying, this is a shit sandwich” Harley interjects, earning a nostril flare form her girlfriend.

“Alright then, I’ll be honest. He’s a self-centred, whiny entitled prick who never once has put his interest aside for you. He thinks he can control what you do and don’t do by dangling some bills in your face, and will most likely dump you for a rich white girl as soon and high school is over.”

“Sheesh kebab honey” Harley whispers, surprised and a little turned on.

Dinah puts her phone in her bag and stands up, silently.

“Hey, come on songbird! She didn’t mean it!” Harley tries to stop her, but Dinah has already grabbed her things and is walking away.

* * *

_“Can I take a rain check for today? Something came up.”_

Helena hovers over the send button on her phone for what feels like forever. Nothing came up, she just... she needs to think. She needs to clear her head from stuff. Stuff like Dinah’s smile and Dinah’s eyes and Dinah’s neck and that strip of skin that peek below her crop top and the sound her jewellery makes when she moves her hands. She can almost hear it right now, she can almost smell her shampoo, she can almost-

“Hey”

Helena almost drops her phone, and fumbles comically to save it. It makes Dinah laugh, but not nearly as much as she would expect.

“Mh. Hey, Dinah” Helena greets. She wants to jump over the bannister she was leaning on a moment earlier, but something tells her Dinah is... she’s not sure, but she thinks she may need her. It’s an odd thought, and she’s not sure how she knows it, she just... does. So she asks. “Is everything ok?”

There a long silence, which Helena takes as confirmation. She’s never been great at this, she’s never cared enough to try.

“No, actually.” Dinah finally says “Can I... would you listen to me for a bit?”

“Of course” Helena blurts out, immediately realising this is the opposite of what she’s trying to do. How is she supposed to clear her head when Dinah is right there? But then Dinah smiles, and puts a hand on her arm, and says a small ‘thank you”, so what’s Helena supposed to do?

* * *

Dinah talks. A lot. Helena wouldn’t mind, her voice is warm and soft and Helena feels like it reaches her chest before her ears. She wouldn’t mind, if Dinah weren’t talking about Oliver.

“Am I the asshole for leaving the party where he was playing? I know it’s kind of a big deal for him, but I can’t pull an all-nighter. The weekend was brutal at the bar, so busy.”

Helena nods, and listens, unsure on how to reply, but it doesn’t seem to matter because it’s clear even to her that Dinah just needs to process. Talk it out. Make some order. Maybe Helena could use the same strategy, talk to someone. But who?

“He skipped school yesterday, told me he was too tired... said he was so sad when I left he drank himself numb. Mixed some stuff that wasn’t supposed to be mixed and blacked out. I feel really bad.”

“Wait, you’re not responsible for what he did.” Helena really can’t hold back, and seeing Dinah like that is making her feel things, things she doesn’t like one bit.

“Pam thinks he’s a jerk, but I know him. He cares, he’s always doing little things for me...”

“Like what?” Helena asks. She’s trying to help, she tells herself, and if she gets some intel on what Dinah likes to receive, well, that’s collateral damage.

“Like, sometimes I’m too busy to tidy up, and my house is always a mess, so he sends someone to clean my place. Once he got my car fixed. He takes me to place I could never be able to afford...”

“So he pays people to do things for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“All these things... he just pays for them.”

“He’s also coming to my gig tomorrow, he’s always been supportive about the singing. And his dad is not too happy about us dating, so that’s kind of a big deal.”

“Ok.”

It’s a little dry, and Dinah feels a bit self-conscious.

“I’m sorry I talked your ear off, I’m just... Harley and Pam got on my nerves earlier, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to. ”

“It’s ok, I just don’t have much valuable insight. I’ve never... I’m not great at relationships, I guess.”

Dinah bumps their shoulders together, quirking an eyebrow. “You are a bit hard to approach” she points out.

“Yeah, well. That’s how it is.”

The softness Dinah had seen in her a moment ago is gone, replaced by a cold demeanour she hasn’t seen in a while.

“I’m sure he’s a good guy” Helena adds “and you’ll soon get over this bump on the road.”

“Thanks,” Dinah says, a little pensive, “see you at five?”

“Actually I was about to text you, something came up and I need to go earlier.”

“Oh.”

“Good luck for tonight.”

Helena bounces her fist on the bannister a couple of times before leaving, half-heartedly waving her hand goodbye.


	4. Executions

The small art gallery is packed with people who look like they should not be in an art gallery. The gathering looks more like a white supremacists meet up than an art exhibition, and by the talks Helena overhears, it may as well be. She walks around in her waitress uniform, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She’s been working shifts with the catering company for two weeks, to avoid suspicions. It’s a small team, she wouldn’t be able to just sneak in. She keeps an eye on Galante and his men, waiting for the right time to strike.

“We need to push for this new legislation” she hears “personal data collection is vital to our business. You will be able to profile people. Once they can’t get access to credit, we won’t even need to push that scum out of town.”

“What if we get accused of racial profiling?” The man next to Galante asks, accepting a glass of champagne, followed by the other three men.

“Gotham City Bank has nothing to worry about. The system is managed by artificial intelligence, and it would be next to impossible for anybody to find the hidden bias we will sneak in.”

The banker squints his eyes for a moment, then a smirk appears on his face.

“I can’t wait to see Gotham cleaned up for good.”

He raises his glass, mirrored by Galante and his men. They all take a large gulp.

_Now._

Helena approaches them with a half-full bottle and offers a refill. They barely pay attention to her as she pours some more wine in their glasses and then apologises when she needs to grab another bottle. She nods to another waiter to finish the job and fill up the banker’s flute.

 _It’s done_ , she thinks as she watches them drink the whole thing. Pretty anti-climactic, to be honest. It will take four hours for the poison to start working, and they will be long gone by then. But Helena knows exactly where to find them, and she will be there to watch. Slow to activate, slow to kill, and she can’t wait to enjoy the show.

She checks her phone, surprised to find it’s blowing up.

 _202-555-0171, 20:04 “where are you? bar is empty”  
202-555-0171, 20:04 “it’s just me and pam and couple of sketchy looking guys”  
202-555-0171, 20:15 “get your emo self here”  
202-555-0171, 20:15 “_👀 🔪🔪🔪 _”  
202-555-0171, 20:31 “Ollie’s not coming”  
202-555-0171, 20:55 “Dinah is supposed to start in half hour _💥🌈💦 _”  
202-555-0171, 20:55 “She’s thinking to give up”  
202-555-0171, 20:55 “97 Eagle Court, GT14701 bring that sweet little butt of yours over here or istg.”   
__202-555-0171, 20:55_ “🍬🍭🍡 _”_

How the fuck did Harley get her phone number?

* * *

“It’s gonna be great!” Harley’s smile is always a bit unsettling, but tonight Dinah welcomes the girl’s enthusiasm, even if it feels completely out of place in the gloomy atmosphere of the bar. She knew it was going to be a quiet night, but she’s suddenly hyperaware of every little noise in the room, every step, every voice. Which are not that many.

She went through her playlist with Fred, the sound guy, and they’ve agreed on a 9:30 start. She would wait a bit longer but she doesn’t want to drag his night for too long, he’s already coming on his evening off.

She looks at Oliver’s message again.

_Ollie, 19:15 “Hey babe, I’m so sorry but my dad’s being a real dick about tonight, said I’ve been useless all weekend and stuff... and he knows how much I hate when he says that to me. Like, I’m trying to do my own thing but he won’t listen. Anyway, I have to go to this dinner tonight, it’s a business thing and it’s going to impact my internship this summer. I have to keep him happy so I can keep the car, I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice next weekend! Love you, break a leg tonight, really wish I could be there xxx”_

“Stop thinking about him, you gotta focus!” Harley yanks the phone from her hand.

Pamela reads the message and rolls her eyes. “So many words to say I’m an asshole” she mumbles.

“Thanks for coming, guys” Dinah sighs, knowing there’s still some tension between them.

“Of course! We wouldn’t miss it for the world! Right Pam-plum?” Harley chirps, tapping her fingers on the table.

“Look, I know I can be a bit harsh, but I’m your friend and I know this is important for you.” Pamela confirms “We got your back.”

Dinah nods, feeling a knot a the bottom of her stomach. Even if there’s almost no one in the bar, the stage fright is getting real. Harley may be annoying but she’s there, and Dinah is truly grateful she can count on her.

Barry, the bar owner, comes over to tell her she can start whenever she’s ready. Dinah takes a deep breath and stands up, while Harley wiggles in her chair so much all her bangles start clattering.

The stage is small and the microphone whistle when she turns it on, but the soundcheck went ok so she hopes there won’t be any major problem. She nods in Fred’s general direction, and the base starts. Harley claps twice before Pamela grabs her arms and holds them down.

It’s a slow song, one that she’s sung a thousand times, yet her voice trembles a little. Damn nerves. She remembers to breathe.

Her mother used to play this song when she was home, and they’d sing it together. It’s mellow and a little sad. Dinah misses her every day, but today it’s a little stronger, a little deeper. Maybe she shouldn’t have chosen that song to start. Would her mother be proud of her? She would probably walk in the bar and demand a better night. She was that kind of woman. She knew her worth and made sure everybody else knew too. She told times and times again Dinah should never settle. She wishes she could be there to remind her. She could be embarrassing, sure, but she wouldn’t let anyone treat her poorly. Surely not her partner. She would whip Ollie’s ass if she were there.

By the time the song ends on a minor chord, Dinah’s sadness has turned into anger. Mainly at herself. Pamela is right and Dinah knows her mother would say the same thing. She knows Oliver accepted to go to dinner with his father to make up for the mess he made over the weekend, which he tried to pin on her. And she let him. She feels stupid and worthless, which is exactly the type of self-loathe her mother would disapprove of. It makes her feel even worse.

Harley claps like Freddy Mercury has just come on stage, and Pamela joins her at a more reasonable energy level. A couple of other people give her a half-hearted applause before going back to their chats. She gives a coy smile to the small audience, wishing it would just be over. She needs to stop thinking about Oliver, and focus on this goddamn performance.

The intro of her next song starts playing, it’s a piano and voice piece from the 80s. She picked the more intimate version, which turns out was a good choice. The original is a little too pop for the vibe of the place.

Someone picks that moment to come in, Dinah isn’t sure if she should be pleased or frustrated about it. But when the slightly out of breath newcomer walks towards Harley and Pamela, her heart skips several beats.

_Helena._

Harley flails her arms and legs when she sees her, doing her best to show her excitement without making any sound. Helena sits next to her, gesturing for her to calm down. When she finally looks at the stage, Dinah greets her with a beaming smile. Helena’s lips curl up a little: it’s small and shy but Dinah catches it nonetheless.

Dinah picks her cue, her voice feels steadier now.

 _If you don’t treat me better,  
_ _baby, I’ll just run away  
_ _Baby, I don’t know what drives you  
to play those silly games _

Helena is sitting upright, hands on her legs, stiff and almost transfixed. Dinah feels her eyes on her skin, her undivided attention, she reads the awe in her slightly parted lips. She remembers she’s not just a singer, she’s a performer: and now she has someone to put on a show for.

_C’mon baby  
I’m much stronger than you know  
Sometimes  
I’m not afraid to let it show _

She pulls the mic from the stand, and suddenly it all feels more natural. Her body relaxes and moves in tune with the music, she fills the space around her. Everybody is listening now, yet she only cares about one person. The realisation hits her like a ton of brick, but she quickly pushes it back to focus on the chorus.

_When will you wake up  
I want you more than  
the sun and the star  
but I can take  
only so much  
cool on your island _

As her second song comes to an end, Dinah feels a rush of adrenaline through her body. The applause is more confident this time, someone even whistles, and Dinah is pretty sure it’s not Harley.

Maybe this is not going to be a total disaster.

* * *

Her set is pretty short, she only has seven songs prepared, but a few more people get into the bar and no one seems too put off by the music, which Dinah considers a victory. She clumsily thanks the thin crowd, and takes mental note to think about how to close her performance next time. If there will be a next time. Right now, she just wants to get off stage and join her friends. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe she just wants to get away from the spotlight, but she almost runs to their table.

As she sees her approaching fast, Helena instinctively stands up, years of training kicking in. Although no training could ever prepare her for Dinah engulfing her in a full-body hug, hands gripping her jacket and face pressed against her shoulder.

“You came,” she says once she finally releases her, unable to stop smiling.

“Ye” Helena nods, rubbing a hand on her neck, unsure of what to do with her arms.

“Bravo!” Harley claps again, and it’s unclear whether it’s for Dinah’s performance or Helena’s decision.

“Thank you. It means a lot” Dinah admits, and the small grin on Helena’s face grows a little.

“Hey, Dinah” a man calls and he walks up to them. He towers over the group, six feet nine of muscle and hair. His grey beard has a few crumbs in it, but they don’t make him look any less scary. Helena immediately straightens her back and raises her fists just enough to show him she’s willing to take him down.

“Who’s your friend? Tell her to chill!” Helena catches a lisp, and when he smiles he suddenly looks like a gentle bear.

“Helena, this is Barry, he owns the place” Dinah chuckles, watching her cheeks redden a bit.

“Sorry” she mumbles “habit.”

“Well don’t bring any of those habits here, young lady. And you” he turns to Dinah “where were you hiding that voice?”

“You liked it?” Dinah asks, hopeful.

“Eh. You gotta rethink your repertoire, honey. It was a lot of gloom and doom. People don’t need to feel more depressed than they already are. But you got some pipes, I can tell you that much.”

“So if she changes her playlist she can perform again?” Harley suggest.

“Maybe” he strokes his beard for a few second, thinking. “Here’s my advice: put together a demo, pick some fun tunes, something people can recognise and maybe sing along. Sneak in a couple of your favourites, eight to two ratio. Life is compromise. Then we can talk about a Friday or two.”

“Friday?” Dinah’s eyes grow wide “That’s awesome!”

“Hold your horses, songbird. Demo first. Talk to Fred, he’ll give you some pointers.”

“Sure, sir. Of course. Thank you.” She grabs Helena’s hand for a second, giving it an excited squeeze, then runs back to Fred before he’s done packing his things.

“You came, you absolute nutcracker!” Harley lands a series of tiny punches on Helena’s shoulder. The look in Helena’s eyes tells her that maybe there’s still some resentment in her. Or is it something else?

“You were right” Helena mumbles.

“Of course I was. About what?”

Helena sighs “I like Dinah. A lot. It’s... inconvenient.”

“Your crush can be seen from space, sweetie” Pamela chimes in “why don’t you just give it a go?”

“Yes! Take a leap of faith, Wonder Woman!” Harley adds.

Helena frowns, the reference completely lost on her.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell her,” they say in unison.

“Ask her out on a date, tell her what you like about her,” Harley adds.

“Open up about yourself, your hobbies, your past. But also listen.” Pamela continues.

“Be vulnerable!” Harley concludes, dramatically “Chicks love that.”

Tell Dinah about herself. Tell her what? I killed four people and still have one to go? I have GCPD looking for me? I’m from one of those rich white families that ruined Gotham? I’m so numb inside I don’t feel anything anymore, and I ride my bike at night well past the speed limit hoping one day I’ll be brave enough to just...

“Done!” Dinah comes back and immediately takes Helena by the arm. “I mean, I’ve talked to Fred. I have a lot of work to do, but it’s a start!”

Helena feels her heart grow just seeing Dinah this happy.

“You were... amazing” she mutters, Harley and Pamela nodding both as confirmation and encouragement.

“Thanks. I thought you had plans for tonight?”

Harley tries to communicate telepathically “this is your chance, you dumb jock”, while Pamela gently takes her hand and drags her toward the bar, whispering “Let’s get you some camomile, love. These things always get you a little overexcited.”

Helena notices they left them alone and internally curses them. They’re now facing each other, and Helena is not sure why she feels a tension between them.

“I finished earlier, it’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal though” Dinah tilts her head “it is to me.”

“I...”

Dinah’s eyes are scrutinising her, just like that first time they spoke: curious, inviting, and a little amused. Amber speckled with gold, staring quietly, almost trying to unravel a mystery. Helena feels the entire world is getting quieter, further. Or is it Dinah who’s getting closer?

“... I have to go” she blurts out, taking a step back.

Dinah lowers back on her heels (was she on her tiptoes?) and looks positively mortified.

“I’m sorry, I misread the whole situation,” she stutters.

Helena doesn’t know exactly what she means by that, the only thing she’s sure about is that Dinah is too good and too kind to hang out with someone like her. And she feels... dirty for getting close to her, for pretending to be her friends when she clearly wants something else. Dinah deserves better. And even if there was a chance, what can she offer? She’s a killer. A criminal. Probably a psychopath. How else can she explain this complete lack of emotions? This numbness that follows her everywhere?

“I’ll see you around” she mutters, grabbing her stuff and bolting out of the bar.

When Harley and Pamela come back, Dinah is still starting at the exit.


	5. Showdown

“They called him a fucking philanthropist, can you believe that?”

Montoya throws the newspaper on Miller’s desk. He glances over the title _Vincenzo Galante found dead_ and raises an eyebrow.

“Why do you care? Case is with Mendez and Castillo.”

“Frederick “Happy” Becker used to work for Galante before going to jail. In the same squad as the two bodyguard found dead with him. You really think they’re not connected?”

“What is your theory, boss?” he drags the word boss in a way that makes her understand he’s only indulging her because he has to.

“This is Sionis’ doing” she states.

“You’re obsessed” he scoffs “There’s no evidence it was him, there’s barely any evidence at all.”

“You know who else was in that squad? Victor Szasz. Sionis’s right-hand man. I think he’s settling an old score.”

“You’re out of your mind.” He scoffs. She gives him a defiant look, as if to say _watch me_ , and leaves the office.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” He yells “Or fired” he adds, but he knows she can’t hear him anymore.

* * *

_Vincenzo Galante Found Dead._

Helena reads the headline and forces a smile. She should be happy, but the more she looks for a shred of satisfaction, the more she’s confronted with a hollow apathy. She scans the article. _Alleged poisoning. No suspects._ All according to plan. She regrets not following him, but she was too on edge after that moment with Dinah. She was distracted. She couldn’t risk making a mistake, not now. The hardest part is coming. Szasz must be on alert, and he’s the most dangerous one. She needs to act fast.

Most of all, she can’t afford distractions.

That’s why she makes a beeline for her classroom and sits between two students she’s never talked to before. She stubbornly keeps her eyes on her notepad as the room fills up. She _feels_ her, anyway, when she walks in and takes a minute to look around. When she sees her. When she hesitates and almost comes over. Helena decides to take it out on the piece of paper in front of her, digging long lines with her pencil. Dinah finally takes a seat in one of the first rows. Helena doesn’t listen to a single word the teacher says.

* * *

She’s glad to find the parking lot deserted. She’s decided to skip calculus, she wouldn’t be able to focus anyway. She’s kneeling to open her padlock when she hears the flicking of a lighter and a sigh.

“I don’t understand, things were going fine!”

Helena recognises Oliver’s voice on the other side of the car parked behind her.

“Come on man, she was too pretty for you. No wonder she dumped you. I bet you didn’t even get to third base.” Another guy mocks him. Helena freezes, and wishes she had the strength to ignore them. She doesn’t.

“First of all, she didn’t dump me. We’re on a break. And of course I did, we went all the way.”

“Not in your wildest dreams, Queen.”

“I don’t have anything to prove to you.” he scoffs, but neither of them, nor Helena, believe that for a second. His voice is too strained, and his friend clocks it immediately.

“Pics or didn’t happen” he teases.

“Fuck off.”

“I knew it, you’re full of shit.” There’s a laugh, and some noise, like someone being pushed. Maybe Oliver has some balls, after all, Helena thinks.

“Look” she hears him whisper, and after a moment of silence, the other guy says “Holy shit! Nipple piercings? Nice!”

“Shut up, dumbass. You can’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Didn’t know she let you take nudes.”

“She didn’t exactly-” he trails off when he sees the person in full motorcycle gear standing in front of him. The padded jacket must make Helena look even more threatening. The glimpse of fear in his eyes gives her a moment of glee, but it’s quickly overcast by her rage.

“P-please don’t tell her” he whines.

His friend tries to hold her back when she grabs him by the collar of his shirt, but she barely notices the hand on her arm. Her fist finds his face before she can think twice about the consequences.

“Fuck!” Oliver breaths out, holding a hand to his bleeding nose “Are you out of your mind?” She takes a step closer and her stumbles back. “I’m gonna get you expelled,” he seethes. She stops. She briefly considers whether she cares or not, then remembers she promised to finish high school.

“Delete it.”

“Or what?” he retorts, having found some confidence after his threat turned out to work. She lunges forward and takes his phone, watching him cover his face with his arm.

 _What a wimp,_ she thinks as she scrolls through his pictures.

“Where is it?”

“What, you want to see it? You could’ve just asked.”

She raises a fist again and watches the colour drain from his face. “It’s in my cloud” he whimpers.

“You” she calls the other guy, who’s standing beside her. She hands over the phone and orders: “Delete everything in his cloud. Or you will pray his nose is the only thing I break.”

The guy looks at Oliver, who nods eagerly. The pain in his face is enough to not want to risk a more thorough beating and he’s pretty sure Helena wouldn’t hold back.

“Done” he confirms, showing the empty screen.

“Fuuuuck” Oliver lets out, dropping his head back. There was a lot of stuff in his cloud.

“Good” Helena takes the phone and drops it, then steps on it with her boot a few times, making sure it’s destroyed. “This stays between us,” she adds.

Oliver watches her get on her bike and speed away, thinking there’s no way he’s telling anyone about what just happened.

* * *

“What is it, Dinah-bug?” Harley shakes her by the shoulders “You’ve been moping for the past two days. I thought you’d be happier after the gig!”

“Harley, I’m not in the mood...”

“Yeah, I can see that, genius.”

“She broke up with Oliver” Pamela informs her “which I think should cheer her up, if anything.”

“You guys broke up? Why didn’t you tell me?” Harley asks, a little offended.

“We’re on a break” Dinah corrects her. “And I don’t know, I just... sometimes I think we’re too different. He does a lot of nice things for me, but I also feel I can’t count on him. I’m... confused.”

“Let me ask you something, honey” Pamela cuts her off, determined to untangle the situation for her “have you noticed that when he does something for you, he always gets something out of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“He sends his maid over so you can spend time with him instead of cleaning. He pays to fix your car because he lost his driving license. He takes you to those fancy places because Chinese take out is beneath him.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Dinah feels a little defensive.

“Nothing, if he weren’t for the fact that every time you asked him to do something just for you, something that could be mildly inconvenient for him, he wasn’t there. And he always seems to forget you work weekends, or maybe he just doesn’t care.”

“You know who was there when it mattered?” Harley picks up “Helena.”

Dinah pulls away, annoyed. “Stop that.”

“Why? She’s hot, and nice, and she likes you!”

“No, she doesn’t” Dinah mumbles.

“What do you mean she doesn’t, she-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, ok?” 

Harley and Pamela share a confused look, but decide it’s better to let it go. They both heard her voice breaking a little.

* * *

She feels so stupid. She almost kissed her, and Helena had jumped away like a scared animal. More than stupid, Dinah feels guilty. She royally fucked up. Way to come onto a straight girl. No wonder she’s avoiding her.

It took so long to get close to her. There was something about her, something she was drawn to from the very first time they spoke. Maybe it was her loneliness that resonated with her, her defensiveness. Dinah had the same wariness towards the world, one that comes knowing tragedy can strike anytime. But where Dinah had tried to hide it, Helena had embraced it. Dinah always felt like she had somehow deserved her misfortunes. Helena was unapologetically angry at the world.

It doesn’t matter anymore, because she’s managed to drive away the one person who could understand how she feels, how fucking hard it is to stay afloat when there’s no one there to guide you anymore.

Dinah hates feeling this powerless.

As always when she feels lost, she turns to her mother. What would Dinah Drake do? 

She would dump Oliver Queen, that’s for sure. Pamela’s analysis was spot on. He only did what was convenient to him, pretending it was for her. Now that she’s uncovered the pattern, she can’t unsee it.

And she would talk to Helena. She would apologise, clear things up. She would get her friend back. She definitely wouldn’t dwell on whether she’s worthy of her friendship. She would just go for it.

Dinah decides it’s time to channel her. To take things in her own hands. Helena has no right to ignore her like that, and for such a small mistake. Dinah didn’t do anything wrong, it was an honest misunderstanding. She’s overreacting, and Dinah feels confident they can get past that.

That’s why she runs after her when she spots her leaving school.

 _Thank God she’s tall_ , Dinah thinks, because the corridors are packed and she would definitely lose her otherwise. She pushes through the crowd of students and finally manages to get out of the main door. She runs to the parking lot, knowing that’s where Helena’s going, but when she makes it there the black motorcycle sprints in front of her.

_Fuck._

She’s not sure what she’s thinking when she runs to her car and starts the ignition, she knows it’s a lost bet. Helena can filter through traffic and she’ll be stuck way behind. But she has to try. She accelerates a little too hastily, making her tires screech.

* * *

She may get herself killed, Montoya is aware of that. Miller may sell her out. Fuck, she was blindsided again. How did she miss that? He was on Sionis’ payroll all along, and she had spoken too much. It was only a matter of time before she had a target on her back.

That’s why she needs to act fast.

Luckily her informant came through. Sionis was holding a meeting with Beretti, Cassamento, and Inzerillo to discuss how to split Galante’s territory. Apparently his son Junior was not invited, which means there would be a new wave of violence in Gotham soon.

There’s no way she can sneak in without risking her skin, but she can at least be in the area and get some intel. Some plate numbers, maybe some pictures of them leaving the meeting. Connecting Sionis to the most notorious mobsters in Gotham would help her build a case.

* * *

By some type of miracle, Dinah doesn’t lose her. She manages to follow the bike until the pier and watch her enter a warehouse. It looks pretty much like the techno party warehouse, so even if it is a bit early she figures Helena’s just going to one of those hip secret bars Ollie always raves about. It is a little weird, Dinah has to admit, because Helena doesn’t give off that type of vibe, but maybe she doesn’t know her as well as she thinks.

She quickly crosses the streets and follows her inside.

Her steps echo faintly in the large, empty space. It’s not unusual for the entrance to be on the second block, so she’s not too surprised, but she expects at least a security guard. She hurries through a long corridor until she finally sees her. It looks like she’s hiding behind a stack of crates. Dinah’s figured Helena has some form of social anxiety, but this seems a little excessive.

In a moment of lucidity, she realises she’s followed Helena like a goddamn creep, but it’s too late to back up now. She musters all her courage and takes a deep breath.

Helena’s hand is one her mouth before she can greet her. Dinah freezes when she sees the wild rage in her eyes as she pins her against the wall, teeth grinding and breathing angrily through her nose.

It takes a few seconds for Helena to realise who she’s holding. Her eyes go from furious to worried to downright scared in a split second. She silently signs her to shush as she slowly peels her hand from her mouth.

“Helena...” she presses her hand right back when Dinah’s voice is still too loud for her taste.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers, giving a sample of the volume she will allow.

“I... followed you, I needed to-”

“This is not a good time. You have to leave.” Helena cuts her off.

“Who’s there?” A man shouts from the other side of the room. The space is big, a maze of crates and pallets. Helena presses herself and Dinah against the one closest to them.

“You have no idea what you walked into, Dinah, you have to go.” 

“Can we just talk? I’m sorry about the other night, I don’t want things to be awkward between us.” Dinah insists, not fully grasping the gravity of the situation.

“I’m not the person you think I am” Helena says impatiently “Please, leave.”

“I get it, you’re straight, I’m so sorry, but can we please-”

“Hands up!”

A gun. There’s a gun, pointed towards them. Behind the gun, a man. Dinah barely has time to process it because a bolt goes through his forehead and he falls to the ground. Dinah screams.

“Run!” Helena seethes, pulling her by a hand, but Dinah is shell shocked, unable to move. There are more steps approaching, a dozen of people at least. She has to move. She has to, but her legs don’t respond, her eyes locked on the body in front of her.

“Dinah, please” Helena calls her again, wrapping a hand around her waist and forcing her to look away. Her legs start moving. Helena’s pushing her and shielding her with her body. There are gunshots, and two bullets fly over their heads. Helena turns and shoots two more arrows. They find their targets, and Dinah hears the muffled sounds of someone’s throat being pierced.

She finally starts running, Helena’s right behind her, screaming: ”Go go go!” as she pulls a pile of crates to the ground, hoping to slow down their pursuers. There’s more screams, more gunshots, but they can make it, they’re almost out, Dinah thinks. 

That’s when Helena falls to the ground.

“Helena!” Dinah screams, stopping to help her.

“What are you doing?” Helena growls, struggling to stand back up “Get out of here!”

Dinah grabs her by an arm and pulls her up. Blood. There’s blood spreading on her hoodie. The men behind them are getting closer, the bullets are hitting the floor and the walls around them. She drags Helena to the side, to hide behind some pallets. Blood trickles down to her arm and drips to the ground.

“Dinah, listen to me. I can hold them off for a bit, but you have to run,” she begs. Her face is pale, covered in sweat. Her voice weak and desperate. She turns towards the direction those men will come from, and tries to raise her crossbow again. But she’s weaker than she realises, and loses balance. Dinah desperately tries to keep her up but Helena is a dead weight and her blood keeps spilling everywhere. 

“Fuck” she lets out “I’m sorry, Dinah, I’m so sorry.” Helena’s voice breaks, her eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry” she repeats, over and over. 

Panic builds up in Dinah’s chest. Helena’s going to die, God she can’t let her die. The idea makes her entire body shake, her lungs feel like they’re about to explode. There’s a fire in her throat, running through her veins, something primal and electric that makes her want to scream.

So she does. She screams the only word that matters right now.

_Helena._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Ariar for the invaluable insight and beta! :D


	6. Not as planned

Montoya hasn’t heard that sound in years. The ground shakes and everything that’s scattered in her car rattles and topples over.

“No way” she mutters, jumping out of her car and running to the warehouse. A weird euphoria builds up inside her. Could it be...? No, it’s been too long.

When she sees the state of the room, she has no doubts. It looks like a fireless explosion took place. Crates and pallets smashed against the walls, contorted bodies buried under metal bars, pierced through by splintered wood. Cracked skulls and fractured bones.

A massacre.

She walks among the bodies with her arms outstretched, gun firmly gripped in her hands. She tries to identify some of them. Most are unrecognisable, but there’s one she can definitely put a name on. The scars on his torso leave no doubts: Victor Szasz. Next to him, in a lilac three-piece suit, is Roman Sionis.

She shouldn’t smile, but she does.

She’s seen this before, and she knows she needs to find the epicentre. Whoever did this must still be there. It doesn’t take long to find it: the entire area is cleared out. She puts her gun away, now sure there are no survivors.

She’s not sure what to expect, but it’s not… this. Not two teenage girls desperately wrapped around each other and covered in blood. Her heart sinks at the sight. Her mind goes to her old friend, and the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“She looks just like you.”

* * *

Dinah wakes up with a cotton mouth and a headache. The room feels too bright despite the single yellow light bulb on the ceiling. There’s a clinking noise coming from a room nearby, someone washing dishes, she thinks. As her eyes adjust, she realises the sofa she’s laying on is unfamiliar, and so is the painting on the wall in front of her. She remembers the warehouse, the chase, the blood. Helena. She immediately sits up, looking around to search for her.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re safe” a voice hurries to say. There are steps. A short woman Dinah’s never seen before appears in front of her.

“Where am I?” Dinah asks, anxiety and fear building up to panic. “Who are you? What happened?” 

“My name is Renee Montoya. You’re in my apartment. As for what happened… I was hoping you could tell me. I have a theory but-”

“Where’s Helena?” Dinah cuts her off. 

“Your friend’s fine. A little roughed up, but she’ll live.”

Dinah seems to calm down, then. _She’s fine_ , she repeats to herself. She takes a moment to take in her surroundings. The wooden table. The old TV. The bottles of whiskey on the windowsill. The woman sitting in front of her, holding a glass of water, and looking at her with knowing patience. 

Her throat is burning, so she accepts the drink.

“What’s your name, child?” she asks as Dinah gulps down the water.

“Dinah. Lance. Thank you.” Dinah says handing back the glass that Montoya takes with a slow blink. She lets out a small huff that wants to be judgmental but comes off almost admiring. 

“She named you after herself?” 

“You knew my mother?” 

“We used to work together.”

Montoya hands her the photograph she’s holding. It’s a picture of her in uniform, ten years younger, and her mother. Dinah remembers that dress. The earrings. The lipstick. She must have been 5 or 6 when the picture was taken.

“My mom wasn’t a cop,” she argues.

“She was a… collaborator. She had a gift and decided to use it for good. Your mother was an amazing woman.”

Dinah furrows her eyebrows, thinking that maybe this Montoya got her confused with someone else. 

“She never told you?” the cop asks.

“Tell me what?” 

“About her powers. Your mother could create a sonic wave so powerful it would instantly deafen anyone within fifteen feet. She could flip cars, destroy windows, even create tidal waves. And so can you apparently.”

Dinah’s memories flood back at once. She remembers the atmosphere vibrating, the blue hue in the air. The inhuman shriek that left her chest. The force at which everything was hurled against the walls. The cracking of wood and bones, the booming sound of bodies and crates falling to the ground once she ran out of breath. The feeling of complete emptiness. The darkness. Helena.

“Helena, is she…?”

“I told you she’s fine. Something must have kicked in, some type of instinct. You managed to keep her out of the wave range. You saved her life.”

Dinah shuts her eyes, feeling immense relief. 

“Where is she?”

“In my bed, taking her sweet time to wake up. Wanna go check on her?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. She makes her way to the bedroom, knowing full well the girl is going to follow her.

The light in the room is dim. Helena lies in bed perfectly still, almost peaceful. The bandage around her shoulder peeks from the bedsheets, her tattered hoodies and t-shirt on a chair. Montoya must have cut them.

“It was a fucking nightmare to carry than beanpole over here. Girl’s all bone and muscle and twice my height,” the cop scoffs “She was conscious for a while, and let me tell you: I’m glad the bullet went clean through, cause I wouldn’t want to pull it out of her. Girl bites. Almost had to knock her out again to stitch her up.”

It does the trick, Montoya thinks. There’s a fond smile on Dinah’s lips, and the cop knows then these two must be more than just friends. 

“Can I stay here?” Dinah asks.

“Sure, I’ll be in the other room, let me know if you need anything.” 

“Wait, I... you don’t have to, but maybe you could tell me more about my mother?”

* * *

Helena wakes up to the sound of a familiar voice.

“Dinah?” she utters. Her lips are sticky, she can barely articulate her name. The chatter stops and two pairs of eyes look down to her. 

“Welcome back,” Montoya says. Helena grunts in return, and Dinah wonders how much they fought exactly. “Let me get you a glass of water, then we’re gon have a little chat.” 

Dinah finds her tone a tad too pointed to be directed to someone who’s barely alive, but she also knows how caustic Helena can be. As Montoya leaves the room, she gets closer and takes Helena’s hand in her own.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot.” 

It’s a good sign, Dinah figures. She gives her an indulgent smile, rubbing a thumb on her skin. Helena smiles back for a moment, more to reassure her than anything else. It’s crooked and fades in a grimace.

Montoya comes back and Dinah instinctively pulls away, dropping Helena’s hand. There’s a flash of sadness in her eyes, she thinks, or maybe she just hopes for it. Helena accepts the glass and takes a small sip, then licks her lips to soothe the dryness.

“Wanna tell me what happened at that warehouse,” the cop makes a pause that Dinah finds quite cinematic, then adds “Miss Bertinelli?”

Dinah frowns, she’s pretty sure Helena’s surname is Mattanza.

“You got the wrong person” Helena retorts, but Montoya doesn’t give in that easily.

“Maybe I should call you Crossbow Killer?” the cop proposes, picking up the weapon from a nearby chair. Helena looks away and lets a puff of air out of her nose. “You know, at the beginning I thought Szasz was going around killing his old pals, but I couldn’t find a motive. Then I did some digging, and guess what? They were the ones who pulled the trigger at the Bertinelli massacre.”

“Massacre?” Dinah breaths out. She knew Helena had lost her family when she was a kid, she had no idea they were murdered. Was she there? Had she seen her entire family die? Dinah looks for an answer in Helena’s eyes, but she’s not looking at her.

“Fine, you got me” she says, deadpan “I killed them. Are you going to put me in jail?”

Montoya bites the inside of her cheek, wondering if the girl’s impassivity is genuine.

“You wouldn’t last a day. Half of Gotham is in Sionis’ pocket. Or was. He’s dead now, so is his best buddy, but I bet there’s plenty of people who’d put a knife in your throat if word got out. Same goes for you.” she concludes, pointing at Dinah, who winces at the warning.

“Szasz is dead?” Helena double checks, a fleeting grin passing on her face.

“That’s your takeaway?” Montoya chuckles “Suit yourself. So you were there for him?”

“Yes,” Helena admits.

“There were eighteen armed men in that meeting, some of the most dangerous criminals in Gotham. Did you really think you’d make it out alive?”

“Never said that” Helena replies, dryly, then regrets it when she sees Dinah’s head perk up out of the corner of her eye. Montoya sighs loudly, trying to convey how patient she’s being.

“You know what? I need to scrub some blood off my car seats, and you two look like you need to have a chat.” Before she makes her way out of the room, she adds “You leave this room, you’re on your own. Don’t be dumb.”

* * *

Once Montoya is out of the room, neither of them knows what to say. Helena decides eye contact is unnecessary and stubbornly stares at her lap, worrying the sheets in her fist. Dinah can see her jaw contracting at regular intervals, in sync with her breath.

“Hey,” she calls. Helena seems to calm down a little then. Dinah fingers stroke her knuckles, gently, then make their way to her palm and force her fist to open. 

“How does it feel?” If her eyes remain low and almost ashamed, Helena hears a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice. “To kill the people who...?”

She doesn’t want to say it, she doesn’t want to remind her what they did. But Helena understands, and something tells her Dinah’s also thought about revenge. 

“I don’t feel anything,” she replies after a moment. 

Dinah nods thoughtfully, then seems to push the thought aside.

“I can’t imagine what you went through, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” 

“I killed people,” Helena breathes out, confused, as if she couldn’t believe Dinah would still consider talking to her after what she’s done, after what she’s put her through. She almost got hurt, she almost… Helena can’t think about it, or she will want to punch something, and right now she cannot. She breathes a little faster, huffing out of her nose. 

“So did I.”

By the way Helena’s looking at her, it’s clear she has no idea what happened at the warehouse. She has no idea _what_ she is.

“Turns out I inherited some kind of... superpower from my mother” she chuckles nervously, aware of how ridiculous she sounds, “I’m still not sure how they work, Montoya called it a… bird cry or something. Basically I can scream loud enough to kill anyone within range and then pass out. Not the most fun superpower.” 

She sits on the mattress, trying to calm her nerves. It doesn’t work.

“When you go shot I… I didn’t know what to do, you were bleeding and- I didn’t mean to kill anyone, but I thought you were gonna die, Helena, and I couldn’t-” she brings a hand to her mouth, trying to hold a sob, but she can’t. She’s crying, and she hasn’t in a long time. “I couldn’t let you.” 

Helena doesn’t know what to do. Comforting someone was never part of her training. But Dinah’s hand on hers felt good, so she figures maybe she can do the same. It’s tentative, almost clumsy, but it’s there and Dinah immediately links their fingers together, holding tight.

“The scariest part is that I’d do it again if it meant saving you.”

* * *

_Fuck. She’s not saying anything. Why is she not saying anything? Why does she look scared? Too much. It was too much. No wonder she’s been avoiding you!_

Dinah drops Helena’s hand and stands up, suddenly aware of the intensity of her words. 

“I’m sorry, I should probably go” she stutters, embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

“Wait” Helena finally says.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to- I know you don’t feel the same way I feel about you.” she blurts out, and _God you had to spill it out, didn’t you?_

“I don’t feel anything” Helena repeats, slowly, as if she’s formulating her thoughts at the same time “except when I’m with you.”

Dinah stops in her tracks, and thinks another sonic wave may be coming - but it’s just her heart thumping loudly in the chest. Dinah is glad Helena’s keeping her eyes down or she may see when it decides to break free from her ribcage.

“For the past ten years, I only had one objective: kill the people who murdered my family. I moved to Sicily, trained every day, and as soon as I turned eighteen I came back to Gotham. I didn’t let anyone near me, I couldn’t afford distractions, or liabilities.”

Helena’s eyes quickly glance over to her, and her fingers play nervously with the fabric of the bedsheets.

“After my first kill… I couldn’t feel anything. It was unplanned, and quick, and I thought maybe I needed _more._ Maybe I needed to see them suffer. So the second time, I used a slow poison. I had it all planned out, found a perfect hiding spot and got night vision goggles… but all I could think about was that you were about to have your first gig and I was going to miss it.”

Now that she’s looking at her, Dinah sees something hard in Helena’s eyes, a coldness that turns her words into an accusation. 

“I’m sorry I got in the way” Dinah mutters, swallowing to fight the tightness in her throat.

“That’s not… I just- I wasn’t prepared for it” Helena’s voice softens, becomes a whisper “I wasn’t prepared for you.”

Dinah lets out a short, soft laugh, her nerves playing up. 

“Yeah, you’re not exactly what I was expecting either.” 

Helena’s eyebrows perk up. Dinah has a good point. And she’s angry, she is, she tells herself. She didn't get to kill Szasz, her revenge will always feel incomplete. She’s got a bullet through her shoulder. She has no idea where her motorbike is, her favourite hoodie is in shreds, there’s a faint ring in her ears that’s just not going away. 

Yet she smiles back, and Dinah’s eyes immediately fill with something that looks a lot like hope. It only lasts a moment before Helena’s face turns into a grimace and a low growl leaves her throat.

“What is it?” Dinah asks, worried.

“I think the painkillers are wearing off” Helena admits, dropping her head back. 

“Oh, ok, don’t move, I’ll get Montoya!” her voice is more anxious than she’d like it, _and of course she won’t move, how dumb was that?_

* * *

Once she’s gone, Helena punches the mattress with her good arm a few times. Her shoulder has been throbbing in pain for the past fifteen minutes and she really can’t take it anymore. Her head is spinning, her teeth clenched tight. It’s not just the pain, she realises. It’s… everything. Szasz is dead. They’re all dead. And she’s still alive.

She wasn’t expecting to make it this far.

And then there’s Dinah. Dinah, who wouldn’t let her die. Dinah who tapped into a superpower she didn’t even know she had just to save her. Dinah who was still there, after all that happened. She’d been dragged into a stupidly dangerous revenge mission just because… she liked her? 

Helena could really use a moment to process it. 

Because it’s weird, and new, and so fucking inconvenient, but it spreads a warmth inside her all the same. And maybe she could- they could try to- what do people do when these things happen? She’s never done this before, hell she’s never thought about this before. Could they… kiss? 

When Dinah and the cop enter the room again, her entire face is bright red.

“You ok there, kid?” Montoya checks, seeing a hint of panic in her eyes. Helena just nods, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Here, take this.”

Helena takes the pills from her hand, glad to have something to focus on. She swallows them quickly, under Dinah's watchful gaze.

“Give it a minute, I know it hurts like a bitch” the cop says, sympathetically.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asks.

“Just on the left.” Montoya points towards the door, but Helena doesn’t move. Instead, she looks down, silently pointing out she’s bare-chested under the sheets. 

“Right, let me get you something” the cop opens her wardrobe and shuffles through some short-sleeve button-ups, then picks the largest she finds. She hands it over to Dinah and says: “She probably needs help putting it on. Here.”

“W-what?” Helena lets out, and the look in Dinah’s eyes tells Montoya she must have got it wrong.

“Oh, I assumed you two… nevermind,” she corrects herself, enjoying the look of panic in both girl’s eyes. She expertly lifts Helena’s injured arm and slides it through the sleeve, while the girl holds the bedsheets against her chest. Dinah looks at a picture on the wall the entire time. 

“I think you can take it from here,” she says once the shirt is wrapped around her back and she just needs to slip her good arm in the second sleeve. “Let’s give her a minute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Ariar for the beta :D


	7. A gentle goodnight

Montoya ushers her to the living room. Dinah sees Helena sneak out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, one arm limp, the other holding the shirt on her chest. Closing the buttons was probably too complicated to do one-handed.

“How are ya feeling?” 

She winces at Montoya’s question. How is she feeling? She’s not sure. There’s the memory of all those bodies, the horror of watching them flying around like puppets. But as soon as that memory subsides, she remembers the fear, the anger, the feeling of powerlessness holding Helena’s body in her arms. Then, the blackout. The feeling of emptiness, the terrifying thought that for god knows how many hours she was unconscious, completely out of control. There’s the relief of being alive. Of Helena being alive. The hope that her words stirred inside her. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. The cop nods, and almost offers her a drink before remembering she’s underage.

“Feel you can drive?”

Dinah blinks a few times, only now realising she has no idea what happened to her car.

“I can drive, but my car must be at the pier.”

“I called a couple of friends, they got your car and her bike before anyone got to the- the warehouse” she stops her before calling it a crime scene. Dinah spots the two sets of keys on the table. “Wasn’t hard to guess which one it was. Not many 70’s Jaguar around."

Dinah sighs, relieved. Not only can she not afford a new car, but Montoya also removed the evidence she was at the warehouse.

“Why are you helping us? Thought you were a cop.”

“Yeah, well. You two did more for Gotham’s safety than the entire GCPD. Plus, I owe a debt to your mother.” She takes a sip from the whisky in her hand, remembering her old friend.

Helena finally makes it out of the bathroom, still holding the shirt closed with her hand. 

“Glad you’re here, Bertinelli. I was about to tell your friend I can’t keep you here. I’ve been trying to build a case against Sionis for months, and I may have run my mouth around the wrong people, so I’m expecting home visits tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you home” Dinah proposes, and Helena blinks slowly, the painkillers starting to kick in.

“Ok,” she nods, and looks around, a little confused.

“I’ll get your stuff,” Montoya says, getting a plastic bag out of a cupboard. 

“My stuff?” Helena frowns, but the cop’s already disappeared into the bedroom.

“Come here,” Dinah says, even if she’s the one coming closer. She starts closing the buttons of the shirt from the bottom, moving up quickly, until her fingers find Helena’s still clasping the fabric. She looks up at the sleepy eyes above her and mutters a soft “come on” to encourage her to loosen her grip. 

It’s close, so close, Helena can feel the warmth of her fingers brushing against her skin, then pressing on the collar to smooth it out.

“Thank you” she mutters.

Montoya comes back, the tip of the crossbow peeking out of the plastic bag, and Helena’s boots in her hand. Dinah instinctively takes them from her, and points to the sofa to tell the assassin to sit down. She feels Helena’s curious eyes on her as she loosens the laces, then goes down on one knee.

“Left foot” she orders, and Helena complies.

Helena’s brain is foggy, she feels like her thoughts are swimming in mud, and having Dinah helping her get dressed is not doing anything to clear them up. Her fingers are on her calves, pulling her leg up. Helena can’t remember that last time someone did that for her. 

_What’s this?_ She wonders when she feels her eyes stinging. _What’s this knot in my throat?_

By the time Dinah finishes tying up the second boot, a tear makes its way down her cheek. She sniffles, surprised, and quickly rubs it away, trying to hide it.

“It’s ok” Dinah looks up and gives her a lopsided smile. “You had a long day.”

Montoya comes back and hands Dinah a piece of paper and a bottle of pills. 

“Here’s my address and phone number, call me if you’re in trouble,” She turns to Helena: “These are painkillers, not more than two every eight hours. You need to change the bandage once a day and keep the wounds clean. I put some Neosporin, cotton pads, and gauze in the bag. It’s better if I don’t know where you’re going, so I’m going to drive your bike to the Gotham mall and park it there. Come collect the keys when your shoulder is better.”

Helena nods hazily, and Dinah sighs a “Thank you.”

“Well at least one of you got manners” she scoffs, giving Helena a side-eye.

“Thank you” Helena mumbles, looking at something on the floor.

Dinah gives a nervous look at the door, trying to muster the courage to go back out. Once they leave, they’re going to be on their own again.

“Hey… It’s gonna be alright. Just lay low for a few days, okay?”

“What if… what if they come looking for me?” Dinha’s voice shakes a little, and Montoya can see the fear in her eyes.

“You run, and you call me, ok?” Montoya grabs her shoulders, then, after a moment, she pulls her in a tight hug. Dinah’s arms are quick around her, looking for a comfort she hasn’t received in years. 

The amount of relief Dinah feels is almost overwhelming. She thinks she may break down in tears. Montoya pulls away, and brings her hands to the girl’s face, squeezing gently. She doesn’t let go until Dinah’s eyes meet hers, and she gets a nod in response.

Helena watches them from her spot on the sofa and something makes its way through the haze in her brain. A memory, she thinks, her mother’s arms around her, her perfume. The reddish tone in her freshly dyed hair. The pearl earrings Helena would play with while being held. She wishes she could ask for the same kind of comfort, but she doesn’t know how.

“You two stick together, ok? Don’t be on your own, it’ll drive you crazy,” the cop says before finally sending them off.

* * *

The car ride is quiet, Helena plopped on the passenger seat, half asleep, Dinah focussed on following the GPS instructions. She’s never even passed through this neighbourhood, and looking at the fancy houses and impeccably clean streets, she thinks maybe Helena gave her the wrong address. 

But when she asks “Am I in the right place?”, Helena nods and points to a gated building. Once they’re within range, she pulls out a small remote and the gate opens with a deep, metallic noise. 

“You can park there,” she says, pointing to a deserted parking space right in front of the entrance.

“Are you sure? There are no other cars.”

“No one else lives here,” Helena explains.

Dinah decides she’ll keep her questions for later. Helena manages to get herself out of the car and wobbles to the entrance, stubbornly trying to stay upright without help. Dinah follows her closely, ready to catch her if she falls, even if she’s not sure she’d be strong enough to do so.

Helena opens the door then flips a switch: a baroque chandelier lights up, revealing a wide hall and a double staircase. The room is exquisitely furnished. The walls are decorated with antique mirrors and carved wooden cabinets, a tasteful counterpart to some modern abstract paintings. The rest of the furniture, however, is covered in white sheets.

Helena makes her way through a wide arch between the staircases and enters a room on the left, where a Dinah finds a large unmade bed and a wide-open, half-empty wardrobe.

“This place is insane” she lets out, unable to hold back anymore, “How can you afford it?”

“Inheritance,” Helena says, dryly. 

A thought crosses Dinah’s mind, and the words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself “Is this where…?” 

“No!” Helena reassures her “No, my family had a lot of properties in Gotham. This one is the closest to school. No one’s lived here for years, and I don’t need all the space, so I just… I just use this room, a bathroom and the kitchen. Sorry, it’s a mess.”

Dinah looks up to the ceiling, noticing the finely decorated mouldings, the tall windows, the heavy velvet curtains. 

“You hungry?” Helena’s spent too many years in Italy not to ask her.

“I’m… starving, actually” Dinah realises. 

Helena guides her to the kitchen. It looks more lived in, with some dirty dishes in the sink and some crumbs on the floor. Helena opens a cupboard and pulls out two glasses, setting them on the counter before opening the tap. It’s a little clunky to fill them up one-armed, but she refuses to ask for help. She opens the fridge and pulls out some leftovers. She tries to open the tupperware, stubbornly using her forearm to keep it in place, and when she doesn’t manage, she angrily pushes it to the side.

“Let me.” Dinah patiently takes the container and lifts the lid, and Helena huffs in frustration.

“I’m sorry” Helena mumbles, trying to be polite despite her irritation.

“You’re injured, it’s ok if you need help.”

Helena wants to say that she hates it, she can’t stand not being able to do simple tasks by herself. She wants to yell and kick something, but then Dinah smiles and tilts her head, and maybe she can scrape the barrel of her patience. For her.

“There’s a microwave over there.” 

“Plates?”

“In that cupboard.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Dinah proposes, heating up two generous portions of pasta, and picking two forks from the drying rack. “I’ll take care of this.”

* * *

Dinah wolves down her pasta, only now realising how hungry she is, and how much energy the cry has taken from her. 

“This is really good,” she says, mouth half full.

“Your standards are low,” Helena comments, “I see what you people eat at the cafeteria.”

“You know, I’d be offended if you weren’t a hundred percent right.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Helena says with a shrug. Her voice is small, and Dinah knows she’s trying to be… something. Nice, maybe? That’d be a first. She’s not going to ruin it by making fun of her, though, so she just gives her tight-lipped grin after taking another mouthful of penne.

Helena lowers her head, but Dinah spots a little smile before she hides it behind a fork.

“You can stay here tonight,” Helena says, trying to sound casual “If you want to.”

Dinah taps her fork on the plate a couple of times, pensive.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I mean, Montoya said you shouldn’t be alone and-”

“Do _you_ want me to stay?” Dinah repeats.

Helena debates internally whether it would be safer for Dinah to go home or stay. Is it too late for her to drive home? Would she be better off sleeping in her own bed? Would she prefer to have her clothes and toothbrush? But all her doubts circle around the same plain truth, which is that she simply doesn’t want her to go.

“Helena?” 

“Yes. Please, stay. For me.” 

Dinah knows it’s taken all of Helena’s willpower to string those words together, and she can see how she’s already starting to regret them. How she’s second-guessing that moment of vulnerability.

“Of course I will,” she reassures her, “and for the record, I don’t want to be alone tonight, either.”

“Ok” Helena breathes out, and when Dinah’s fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she leans slightly into her hand, pressing her cheekbone against her palm for a moment. 

“Let’s go to bed.” 

* * *

Helena manages to take her boots off by herself, and even to wiggle out of her pants, while Dinah is slipping into one of her spaghetti string tops and sweatpants in the bathroom. She decides to keep Montoya's shirt on; changing into something else would be far too complicated. 

Dinah comes back with two glasses of water that she places on the nightstands, and finds Helena laying on the left side of the bed, three pillows behind her back, bedsheets neatly tucked between her arms and her chest.

“You look like a hospital patient,” she mocks.

“I can make another bed for you, there's at least ten more rooms in this house…”

“We said we don’t want to be alone, remember? Plus, I’ll be here if you need anything.” Dinah lifts her shoulders in a casual shrug “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything… weird.”

Helena shuffles a little as Dinah slips under the sheets, almost trying to sink further into the mattress. She turns the bedside lamp off, and she can hear a small sigh in the dark.

“Goodnight, Helena.” 

“Night.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Helena is still staring at the dark. She can feel the warmth of Dinah’s body, the gentle rustling of the sheets when she moves. There’s still a haze in her brain, a sense of disorientation she now knows is due to painkillers. It should knock her out any time now.

But it doesn’t. There’s an anxiety pooling at the bottom of her stomach, a restlessness. She wants to change her position, but she fears the noise would wake up Dinah and give away her disquiet. She dozes off a couple of times, but the possibility of accidentally touching Dinah in her sleep makes her jerk up awake again.

“Can’t sleep?”

Dinah’s voice doesn’t sound sleepy at all. 

“No.” 

“Me neither.”

Helena hears Dinah readjusting her position, then the light goes on again, and she’s a little closer. Helena takes a deep breath and checks how much space there’s on her left. Not enough to scoot further, she finds.

“I was out for ten hours, I don’t think I can sleep anymore. What’s your excuse?” Dinah asks. She’s propped on her elbow, laying on her side. Helena feels her heart beating in her throat, her stomach twisting.

“You're very close.” 

“And that keeps you awake?”

Helena shuts her eyes, realising Dinah’s words make hers sound so... obvious. 

_Fuck._

“It’s just… whenever I’m around you nothing goes to plan,” she mumbles.

Dinah squints a little and moves again, and Helena wishes she could jump out of bed.

“You know, I never know if what you tell me is supposed to be a good or a bad thing,” Dinah points out.

“I don’t know either.” 

There’s a silence, Dinah looks at her like she’s trying to figure her out once and for all. It’s not the first time, but Helena can’t quite get used to it. She feels her soul bare and exposed like new skin born out of a flesh wound.

“I think I may be in love with you.”

It’s not what Dinah expects. By the look of it, it’s not what Helena expected to say either. It’s not what she expects, but according to the thumping of her heartbeat, it’s what Dinah’s been hoping all along. Her lips part and the surprise reaches her eyes.

“I-I mean… I don’t… You don’t...” Helena tries to string something together, but her thoughts are slow and extremely confused.

“Please don’t take it back,” Dinah pleads.

“I was gonna say you don’t have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“God, you’re so dumb” Dinah sighs, dropping he head. “I've liked you since the first time we met, how could you not see it? Harley noticed it immediately, of course. I kept coming back to you even when you were being a total dick to me.”

“Harley clocked me too,” Helena admits.

“Maybe we should listen to her more often.”

“I don’t know, she also said hot pockets are a type of ravioli.”

Dinah laughs softly, and moves even closer, a little more confidently than before.

“What are we gonna do about it?”

“About Harley’s controversial opinions?”

“About us.” 

Dinah turns serious again, and Helena opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“You know what? I’m just gonna kiss you,” Dinah states.

Helena takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes, giving her a nervous nod.

“I said I’m going to kiss you, not punch you,” Dinah chuckles “don’t act like you’ve never done this before.”

“I-I haven’t” Helena stutters, opening one eye only “I’ve never…” she trails off when she realises how close Dinah is, and her eyes fall on her lips for a moment.

“Oh” Dinah lets out, then asks again: “Can I?”

“Yes.” 

Helena follows her with her eyes until she’s too close for her vision to remain sharp. It’s a little comical, Dinah thinks, how scared and curious she looks. Her kiss is soft, careful, and just as softly Helena accepts it.

Dinah tries to stay serious, she does. But when their lips meet, there’s a little high-pitched sound that’s between surprised and delighted, and she _has to_ pull away and smile. Well, she tries to, but Helena follows her and kisses her again, eagerly. The hand cupping her face is almost demanding, and Dinah melts into it, all her smugness gone and forgotten.

* * *

The softness is what Helena notices first. Dinah’s lips are soft in a way she can only piece together through metaphors. Soft like morning dew and marshmallows, like clouds and melted chocolate, like diving into a sea of kittens. It stretches time like a slow-motion sucker punch or the time-lapse of a blooming flower. 

The second thing Helena notices is her taste, and that’s because Dinah’s tongue has found its way to hers. It’s slick and warm and it would be reasonable to find it disgusting, she thinks, if it weren’t the best fucking thing that’s ever been in her mouth. 

The third thing she notices is that she forgot to breathe. She pulls away, almost gasping for air - and there she is, smiling like she always does, only this time there are no questions in her gaze.

“Wow.” 

It’s stupid, Helena knows that, but she can’t find a better word for what she’s feeling. All those metaphors she’d conjured are out of the window the moment she sees Dinah’s eyes, staring at her with the same awe she’s feeling.

“Yeah” Dinah confirms, then heavily drops on the mattress. 

Helena realises she was holding herself up on her arms the entire time to avoid pressing onto her injured shoulder. The distance, even if just a few inches, is almost unbearable. Luckily, Dinah must feel the same because it only takes a moment for her to scoot closer and snuggle up to her, carefully laying her head on her good shoulder. She wraps an arm around her stomach, and Helena can’t help thinking that their bodies fit together quite nicely, and if she moves her arm a little, yes, she can scoop her even closer, and hold her, and maybe never let go.

Dinah sighs peacefully, and her hand slips under her shirt and draws small, mindless circles on her skin. Helena feels a sense of calmness dawning on her, and all she can think is: _God why did I take so long?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Ariar for the beta :D


	8. A thing or two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? Fluff.
> 
> Thanks again to Ariar for the beta :D

Sleep had come so suddenly, Helena doesn’t even remember the last words she mumbled before dozing off. All she knows is that the restless tension left her body all at once, and Dinah’s touch had ushered her into a dreamless slumber.

The throbbing pain in her shoulder is what wakes her up, but the lack of Dinah’s weight on her chest hurts a little more. She checks her phone before even taking her pills.

 _Dinah Eng Lit, 7:36 “I’m going to school. I put your name on the bio assignment ;)”_ _  
_ _Dinah Eng Lit, 7:36 “Left some cereal in a bowl, eat before you take painkillers again”_ _  
_ _Dinah Eng Lit, 7:36 “Please”_

She gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, and finds the bowl waiting for her. She grabs some milk from the fridge and pours it generously, quickly realising how much easier Dinah made things for her with that simple gesture. Once her stomach is full, she takes the painkillers and waits patiently for their effect. 

It’s going to be a long, boring day.

\---

 _Helena (tall), 10:48 “Thank you”_ _  
_ _Helena (tall), 10:48 “For everything”_

Dinah smiles at her phone, and wonders if that “everything” includes her first kiss. Maybe, maybe not. Regardless, the idea makes her giddy.

“Someone’s in a good mood” Harley notes, poking her shoulder. Dinah just hums.

It’s weird how out of all the things that happened, a kiss is the one that’s affecting her mood. She’s not going to complain, though, because if she stops to think about the events at the warehouse, she may have an anxiety attack. 

“Spill the tea!” Harley demands.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dinah plays dumb, but she knows Harley can read right through her. Right through anyone, apparently, even someone as inscrutable as Helena.

“You’re wearing yesterday’s clothes, sooooo either you made up with Ollie or…”

Dinah rolls her eyes, and slips her phone back in her pocket.

“We’re gonna be late for calc” 

“So it’s not Ollie. Come on, honey badger! Tell me.”

“I spent the night at Helena’s, ok?” Dinah admits.

“I knew it! I. Knew. It. Oh boy, this is excellent! I can’t wait to tell Pam, she’s going to be thrilled!”

“Harley, calm down, we just kissed.”

“Excuse me, _just_ kissed? Have you noticed how emotionally stunted Tall and Broody is? And I know you’re not one to make the first move, Miss I’ve Only Dated Straight Guys Before. This is mo-nu-men-tal. How did you even manage? I thought it was gonna take months, a teaspoon has better communication skills than the two of you combined.”

“She was on painkillers, I guess that helped,” Dinah comments absentmindedly, then realises she talked too much.

_Shit._

“How strong were those painkillers exactly?” Harley wonders, “wait, is she ok?”

“Yeah, she… um, she had a small accident. With her bike. Popped a shoulder or something.” Dinah mumbles, hoping to sound credible.

“So that’s why she’s not in today… I thought maybe you tired her out” Harley wiggles her eyebrows, and Dinah feels her cheeks heat up.

“Stop it!” 

“Since when does sex talk make you blush?” Harley points out. 

Dinah holds her books a little tighter, feeling weirdly exposed. It’s not that sex talk per se makes her uncomfortable, it’s just that...

“Well, you said it. I’ve only dated straight guys before,” she mumbles, “and they never did a great job. So I just… I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Harley lets out a modulated oooooooooh, and gently slaps Dinah’s arm. Dinah is grateful they’ve reached their classroom, because she’s not ready for the lecture Harley is obviously dying to give her.

\---

After class, Harley skips and hops to the cafeteria like a puppy on caffeine. She’s blurting out facts and figures about vaginas and listing various sex acts by their scientific name. Dinah regrets every single conversation they’ve had that led to _this_. 

Pamela joins them for lunch, and Harley finally gets distracted for a moment.

“Pam! Spammy, Sweet Potato, Sugarplum. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hello.”

“What did you do to my girlfriend?” Pamela asks Dinah “Did you give her redbull before noon again?”

“First of all, I didn’t _give her_ redbull. I asked her to hold my can for five minutes,” Dinah replies. Pamela raises an eyebrow, implying that they both know that there is virtually no difference between the two things.

“She’s just excited because she’s going to introduce me to the wondrous world of lesbian sex.”

Pamela turns to Harley and sternly says: “Honey, we talked about this. If you plan to have sex with Dinah I have to be there.”

“It’s not- wait, you talked about this?” Dinah asks, a little shocked, but not even that much if she’s honest with herself.

“That’s not important,” Harley dismisses her, “what’s important is that Dinah has managed to get her hands on Washboard Abs herself! She got a taste of that tall glass of thick blueberry milkshake, bit into that delicious white chocolate muffin, she-”

“Babe, you’re losing me. These descriptions don’t make any sense,” Pamela points out, patently.

“Dinah and Helena smooooooooched” Harley finally, spinning a few times on her foot.

Pamela gives Dinah an impressed look. “Congratulations.”

“But! But but but. She’s a liiiiittle concerned about the practical implications of a two yoni coitus.”

“I see” Pamela comments, while Dinah turns her attention to the food, hoping it will take her mind off the topic. As the lunch lady plops a scoop of overcooked spaghetti on a plate, she can’t help remembering her dinner with Helena, then the things she said to her, their first kiss…

“Earth to Dinah…” Harley waves a hand in front of her face, absolutely insulted that she’s not paying attention to her very important lesson. 

“Leave her alone, she’s in love” Pamela teases, noticing the dreamy expression on her face.

Dinah doesn’t confirm nor deny, she just picks a table and sits in silence, figuring Harley will do the talking for all of them. And she does. She’s relentless.

“...and then there’s toys. Dildos, vibrators, strap ons...”

Harley soon becomes background noise, and Pamela spots the genuine worry in Dinah’s eyes. She’s definitely getting a little overwhelmed by Harley’s extensive lecture.

“Hey, don’t overthink it, ok?” she says. Her voice is warm and soothing and it does make Dina feel a little calmer. “It’s not rocket science.”

“It’s just… looking back, with guys it was always pretty simple, but they could never…” she gives Pamela a look that means _you know what I’m talking about_ “so maybe women are just more complicated.”

“You still think it was your fault, uh? It wasn’t. They just didn’t listen.”

“Listen?”

“Yes, honey, there is only one thing you need to remember. Listen to her. Pay attention to her reactions, her body will let you know what she likes.”

“But where do I start?” Dinah asks. If she’s supposed to gauge Helena’s reactions, she needs to do something first.

“You’ve had sex before, start with what you liked, and see if she’s into it. Don’t focus on… finishing, just on what feels good for both of you. The rest will come. And so will she” Pamela concludes with a little wink.

Dinah blushes a little at the thought, and nods, while Harley is still going “...butt plugs, anal beads, clit suction toys, rabbits vibrators, bullet vibrators… I think that’s it. No wait: ben wa balls. Almost forgot about those.”

Dinah gives her a tight lipped smile and says: “Thank you, Harley, that was very useful.”

“No problem, doll! Now, onto lubricants…”

“Babe, I think it’s enough for today. Why don’t you tell me about yesterday’s roller derby match?” Pamela suggests. Dinah gives her a grateful look as Harley starts blabbing about this chick whose nose she broke during the match. Pamela mouths _no problem_ before turning her attention to her girlfriend, completely endeared.

\---

_Dinah Eng Lit, 15:43 “I’m just outside your place, can you open the gate?”_

The gate opens, and, in the daylight, Dinah notices the elaborate metalwork, and once again wonders just how loaded Helena actually is. She’s not overly enthusiastic about dating someone much wealthier than her again, but it looks like she has no choice. She’s fallen for Helena before she knew about it, and now she’s too far gone to backtrack. 

She parks in the same spot and makes a beeline for the entrance, where Helena is waiting. As Dinah walks up to her, she moves to the side and lets her in. There’s a twitch in her hand, and by the way her eyes look at anything but her, Dinah figures she must be nervous.

“How was school?” Helena asks, little stiffly.

“Usual. We have a calculus test in two weeks, I texted you the exercises we need to do.” Dinah makes her way to the kitchen, the only place that has chairs for them to sit “We have a new group assignment for English, I told Miss Lehane we’re doing it together. And we did a couple more chapters for bio, nothing too hard, you can just read the textbook.”

“Thank you” Helena says, her uneasiness in stark contrast with the way Dinah just makes herself at home in her kitchen. 

“If you give me your locker key I’ll get you your books. You’re not coming in this week, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay put for a while. Still hurts quite a bit.” Helena hesitates for a moment, then leaves the kitchen mumbling “I’ll get that key.” 

When she comes back, she walks up to Dinah and stands awkwardly in front of her.

“You look like you have something to tell me,” Dinah observes.

“No, I- it’s nothing, really. I was just wondering...” she swallows, and Dinah can see the tip of her ears reddening, “if I could kiss you again?” her voice fades as she finishes the sentence, but Dinah is beaming so it can’t be that bad, right?

“You can kiss me anytime,” she says as she takes a step closer.

“Yeah?” Helena looks at her with a shy grin. Soon enough there are arms around her neck, and Dinah’s on her tiptoes, close enough for their noses to touch.

“Yeah.” 

Helena closes the gap between them and forgets about the key she’s holding in her hand. Later, she will find its shape marked on her palm.

\---

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Helena says, watching Dinah chop some onions.

“For us” she corrects her “and I want to. Let me take care of you a little, ok?”

Helena is taken aback by how easily Dinah says and does things that make her entire being radiate with happiness. Maybe it _is_ so simple, she thinks, to let someone into her life, to let her guard down, to trust. Maybe it’s even possible to entertain the idea that life can go on fuelled by something other than rage.

“What?” Dinah asks, noticing how intense Helena’s gaze has become.

“Nothing, I… it’s really nothing,” Helena says, even though what she’s feeling is quite the opposite of nothing, it’s _everything_. Everything she hasn’t been able to feel until now.

“You don’t have to stay here, you can go sit,” Dinah tells her. 

It doesn’t sound even remotely doable to Helena. 

“I want to be close to you.” 

This time, she can’t even blame the painkillers - she’s already switched to lighter ones. It’s just that there’s so much inside her it’s spilling over. She’s managing to hold back the impossibly cheesy love declarations her heart is pushing up her throat, but something always makes its way out. 

“Come closer then,” Dinah smiles coyly. Helena hadn’t even considered that she could want the same thing.

She briefly considers what the best course of action would be to avoid getting in the way, then places herself right behind Dinah, one arm around her stomach, and rests her chin on her shoulder. Dinah gently pushes her cheek against her and Helena sighs contentedly. This may be the closest she’s even been to complete calmness.

She watches Dinah’s hands chop some more vegetables, then grab a pot to boil some water. She feels her body pushing against her arm, and she follows her as she stretches over to reach the rice in the cupboard. Dinah doesn’t protest, instead, she holds her arm in place, signalling she’d rather lose some mobility than let her go. It’s like a little dance, and Helena hopes it may become a habit.

She doesn’t plan to place her lips on the exposed skin of Dinah’s neck, it just happens. But when she sees goosebumps on it, well, it becomes very hard to stop. She kisses a gentle trail up to Dinah’s lobe, then pecks at the shell of her ear.

Dinah slams the knife she’s holding flat on the chopping board, feeling her breath hitch.

“You’re making this very hard,” she breathes out.

“Sorry” Helena replies, dipping her head down to reach the soft skin on Dinah’s jaw.

“You don’t sound sorry” Dinah drops her head back, giving her access to more skin, and Helena’s hand mindlessly reaches under her top, stroking her ribs. She had no idea there were places where Dinah’s skin could be even softer. Her thumb finds the underwire of her bra and instinctively picks at it.

“Slow down, cowboy” Dinah turns to look at her, a little chuckle easing the tension between them.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” this time, Helena means it. She’s not even sure what she’s doing, only that she wants to touch every inch of Dinah’s body, she wants to feel those shivers under her fingertips, she wants to… the thoughts that flood her brain become a little too explicit, and she has to push them aside. She shakes her head, trying to sober up from the inebriation that Dinah’s presence is giving her.

“It’s ok, I also want it. You.” Dinah’s voice is almost shy, but Helena’s grateful for her reassurance, “but we should wait, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course, I didn’t think… plan, I just… you’re just… you feel so good,” Helena mumbles.

Dinah smiles at her earnestness, and Helena feels her brakes are completely off. It scares her a little.

“Who knew you’d be such a sap,” Dinah teases, trying to cool down a bit.

“I sure didn’t,” Helena admits with a short huff.

“Let me finish this,” Dinah points at the half-made dinner, “I’ll need to go soon anyway, I picked up some extra shifts at the bar.”

“Oh” Helena lets out, surprised.

“I have to record that demo and I need to rent a recording studio, so…”

“Right. I could… I could pay for that, you know”

“No.” Dinah’s reply is firm and decisive, if a little terse. “It’s just… Ollie used to pay for my stuff all the time, and it didn’t feel good. I always felt like I owed him something, and he ended up using that to get what he wanted from me.”

“I would never do that,” Helena reassures her, “but I understand.”

“Thank you.” Dinah smiles, trying to show she’s not upset.

This time she’s not going to let money get in the way.


	9. Worn out

Helena’s always thought she had outstanding willpower before she met Dinah, but now she’s starting to rethink it. Sure, Helena goes through her routine more stoically, while Dinah doesn’t even try to hide her grogginess in the morning, but Helena’s always had one goal and everything else revolved around it. Dinah’s a juggler. 

She’s at school 8 am to 3 pm, of course, then comes back to Helena’s to update her on homework and bring whatever she needs: medicine, books, groceries. She spends an hour selecting tracks for her demo, then helps Helena dress her wound - Helena had spent an impossible amount of time getting out of Montoya’s shirt and into a thin-strapped top, so she wouldn’t have to be half-naked in front of her (Dinah looked both relieved and a little disappointed about it). 

Dinah’s evening shift at the bar includes a dinner break, however, she insists on preparing something for Helena before she leaves. Weekends are not any easier. She works doubles at the bar, then there’s laundry to do, her apartment needs some cleaning, her car’s out of gas. 

Helena’s starting to notice, and she wishes she could do something for her, but her damn shoulder is keeping her from doing anything useful. The blood loss made her too weak to stand for long periods or even to concentrate long enough to do homework for both of them.

So she calls the only person she knows.

“Montoya speaking.” The voice on the other end sounds dry and a little wary. _Who the fuck calls on a Sunday?_

“Hi, this is Helena,” she replies, then after a beat, she adds: “Bertinelli.”

“You in trouble?” the cop asks immediately.

“No, I’m- we’re good. No one came looking for us. I just need your help. Can you come over? I’ll send you the address.”

Montoya ponders for a moment whether she should go or not, then decides it may be good to check on the kids. It’s been almost a week, after all.

* * *

“What happened to your face?” is the first thing out of Helena’s mouth. The cop has a split eyebrow and a large bruise under her eye.

“Told I was gonna have home visits,” she says, plainly.

“I’m… sorry about that.”

“Not your fault,” she shrugs as she walks into the mansion, and takes in the room decor “Gotta say I was expecting Lance to call, you don’t strike me as the type who asks for help. Damn, you got a fancy place.”

“Thanks, I guess.” 

Helena escorts the cop to the kitchen and takes a bottle from the fridge. 

“Orange juice?” she asks, “I think there’s some alcohol somewhere too, I’m not sure.”

“Juice will do, thanks. So, what kind of help do you need? Seems like you’re pretty settled here.”

Helena pours a glass for the cop and one or herself, then takes a seat.

“It’s about Dinah.”

Montoya raises an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look above the rim of her glass.

“She’s been… helping me. A lot. We’re sort of…”

“Dating?” the cop finishes her sentence, getting a little impatient at the slow pace with which she’s talking. Helena nods stiffly, and Montoya mutters a “called it” under her breath.

“She’s doing too much,” Helena blurts, “she has school and work and he’s putting together a demo for her singing gig, then she comes over once a day, she cooks for me, helps me with the wound, does my laundry. She’s been staying over and I don’t even have a proper table for her to work on, the whole place is still a mess. We always talk until late and I can see she’s not getting enough sleep.”

Montoya places her glass on the kitchen counter and gives it half a turn, pursing her lips. 

“And what do you want from me, exactly?”

“I tried to offer to pay for some stuff so she doesn’t have to work, but she refused. So I thought… maybe the best way to help her is not to be a burden. I need someone else to help me out.”

“So you want me to be your nurse?” Montoya scoffs.

“No!” Helena hurries to say “No, I… I don’t know anybody. I came here less than half a year ago, I don’t know how to go about finding people I can trust. I don't even know how to hire someone! I’m completely lost and… I had no one else to call.” She admits, dropping her head.

Montoya’s eyes soften, and for the first time, she sees Helena for what she is. A teenager who’s far from anything she’s ever known, thrown into the big city with no one to guide her.

“Money is not an issue” Helena mumbles, almost ashamed.

“Yeah, I figured that much...” Montoya comments, “Ok.”

Helena’s head perks up, and she lets out a hopeful “yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s do it. Mind you, it’s for Little Lance, ok? I’m still not sure this thing you two have going on is good for her.”

To Montoya's surprise, Helena mutters a “Me neither,” so she gives her the benefit of the doubt. 

“Let’s come up with a plan, then.”

* * *

Dinah cannot believe it’s already Monday. She drags herself out of Helena’s bed - in which she dragged herself last night after her shift - and pours herself a generous cup of coffee. She realises pretty soon she doesn’t have time to finish it because she’s snoozed her alarm once too many times and she needs to bolt out of the house.

She makes it to bio right before the teacher comes in. She spots Pamela at the back of the room giving her an apologetic look. She had kept a seat for her but gave it away a few minutes ago, and now the only empty chair is in the first row. Dinah plops on the chair and tries to focus on the lesson.

It doesn’t work. The bell rings the end of the class and she hasn’t listened to a single word.

Pamela comes over and looks at her attempt at taking notes. The page is almost empty, and the few words on it are disconnected and make no sense.

“What’s going on? Has your girlfriend finally kept you up all night?” she asks.

Dinah gives her a tired look and doesn’t even bother to get upset.

“I’m working extra shifts” is her explanation. She rubs her eyes then blinks a couple of times, trying to shake off the drowsiness.

Pamela helps her pack her books and notepad and decides to carry her bag.

“Come on, I’ll take you to calc.”

“Did we have homework?” Dinah asks.

“Yeah, you said you’d done them last Friday”

“Oh, right.”

“Dinah, you can’t go on like this. It’s just Monday and you’re already in terrible shape!”

“Jeez, thanks” Dinah comments, but she knows Pamela is right. 

* * *

“So? So? So?” Harley pokes at Dinah once they’ve found a table at the cafeteria for lunch, “Did you? Uh? Uh?”

“Harley for the love of God, not today,” Dinah grumbles.

“What?” she protests, fists on her hips “You had a whole weekend to experiment!”

“I had to work.” 

It’s not fun, Harley thinks. Dinah is usually so easy to wind up, but today she’s just a freaking zombie. She gives Pamela a concerned look.

“You need some rest,” Pamela comments.

Dinah huffs. Her phone lights up. It’s Helena.

_Helena (tall), 12:10 “I think you should sleep at your place tonight.”  
Helena (tall), 12:10 “Not that I don’t want to see you!”  
Helena (tall), 12:10 “I just think you need to rest properly.”  
Helena (tall), 12:10 “Please?” _

She types a quick “ok” and almost throws her phone on the table.

“Seems like Helena agrees with you.” 

Dinah is not sure why she feels so irritated about it. Helena’s trying to be nice and so is Pamela. Must be the lack of sleep, she figures. Maybe they are right.

_Dinah Eng Lit, 12:14 “Thank you”_

It’s not much, but at least she can try and show Helena she’s not mad. Which she is, but she shouldn’t be.

“Well, since you haven’t sealed the deal yet, so to speak,” Harley interjects, her unwavering enthusiasm not quite rubbing off Dinah, “I have a gift for you.”

Dinah sighs and gives an indulgent smile that may or may not come off as a grimace. Not discouraged one bit, Harley dramatically pulls out a book from her bag and shows it to Dinah with a _ta-dah!_

Dinah reads the title - _The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us -_ and her eyes grown a couple of sizes. In a rush of panic, she snatches the book from Harley's hands and hides it in her backpack.

“Harley, for fuck’s sake!” She groans, looking around to see if anyone has seen the title.

“What? I know you didn’t listen to a single word I said!”

That much was true, but Harley had started getting into some personal details Dinah simply did not want to know. 

“You’ll thank me later, buttercup! I got some really good ideas from it.”

“Harley!” Dinah implores “Pam?”

“It's true,” Pamela shrugs, and Dinah just doesn’t have the energy to deal with it.

* * *

Dinah comes back to Helena’s on Tuesday afternoon. I was weird, not seeing her for two days. She was getting used to her presence, her voice, her weirdly calming aura. Despite her obvious inability to manage her emotions - it was always nothing or too much with her - Helena made her feel grounded. As much as she didn’t like to admit it, Dinah needed that right now.

She was grateful, though, that Helena had insisted for her to go straight home after school and rest. She’d fallen asleep before any thought could form in her mind, and awoke twelve hours later, not a dream to be remembered. 

She’s spent the day feeling guilty about it. 

She’s mulling over it until she reaches Helena’s driveway, then she notices a van parked on the spot she usually takes. She immediately calls Helena’s phone, worried she may be in trouble.

“Hello?” Helena picks up, sounding… pretty normal.

“Hey, I just got in. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, it's all good. Come in.”

“There’s a van,” Dinah states. There’s no need to elaborate: they both know it’s a pretty unusual thing.

“I know, don’t worry.”

Helena shows up at the door and hangs up, waving for her to come over. Dinah jogs to her and gives her a quick kiss, happy to find her worries were unfounded.

“Come, I have something to show you,” Helena says.

There are noises and voices; the whole place has a completely different vibe. Windows have been open and light is pouring in, a cold winter breeze running through the room. The white sheets have been lifted to reveal the cream and burgundy tapestry of the armchairs and sofas, the subtly inlaid coffee table, a drink cart with half-full, unlabelled bottles.

“Good afternoon,” a man carrying a vacuum cleaner greets Dinah, tipping his snapback, before disappearing upstairs.

“What’s going on?” Dinah finally asks, clearly confused.

“I’m making this place more livable,” Helena explains, “Well, they are.”

Dinah gives a look that’s between impressed and surprised.

“Is the kitchen being refurbished too? 'Cause I got groceries” Dinah points to her car.

“Thank you, I’ll get someone to pick them up. You don't have to worry about it. You don’t have to worry about anything, ok?”

Dinah tilts her head and squints her eyes, perplexed. 

“You’ve been doing so much lately, it’s not fair. I can see you’re running on empty,” Helena takes her hand in hers, “I know you don’t want me to pay for your stuff and I respect that. I’d do the same, to be honest. But I can’t ask you to look after me on top of everything else.”

“But I want to,” Dinah protests.

“I appreciate it, but you can’t. End of discussion.” She says with a small grin that wants to make her words friendlier. It doesn’t seem to work, because Dinah is crossing her arm, a defiant look on her face.

“Wait, don’t I get a say?” 

“I thought you’d be happy to have more time to do your things,” Helena explains, surprised by her reaction. 

“I can manage!” 

“You’ve been falling asleep during class!”

“How do you even know that?”

“Harley told me!”

“Oh, so you’re spying on me now?” Dinah yells.

“I’m not- I’m trying to do something nice for you! Why are you upset? ” Helena’s screaming too now.

“Because it was my fault!” 

Helena winces at the sound of her voice breaking, and they’re both grateful the noise of the hoover is preventing the cleaning staff from hearing their discussion.

“It’s my fault you got shot,” Dinah repeats, softly, “I should be the one taking care of you.”

Dinah looks away, but Helena has time to see a glimmer of anger in her eyes, an anger she knows well. She takes a step closer and repeats what Massimo used to tell her, though she never believed it until now.

“You don't need to punish yourself.” 

Dinah’s head perks up in surprise. Helena’s never been great at unwrapping emotions, but this time she’s hit the target.

“I know how it feels to be the one who got away without a scratch.” 

“Helena…”

“All the years I spent training, planning, hurting… sometimes I think my revenge was against myself, not them. And I don’t want that for you. Please.”

Helena is staring at something on the floor, her voice low but steady. Saying it out loud feels huge and insignificant at the same time. Huge, because she’s finally given voice to whatever was hiding behind her anger. Insignificant, because saying out loud reveals it for what it is: stupid, irrational, and dangerously numbing.

Dinah feels her eyes sting a little, arms still crossed on her chest.

“Have you stopped punishing yourself?”

“Still working on it,” Helena says, her lips curling on one side in what wants to be a smile, but fails to carry any joy.

The look they share is full of sadness and understanding. They remain in silence until Dinah steps forward and gives a kiss that asks for forgiveness for both of them. It’s deliberate and purposeful and Helena understands it’s a promise.

“You’re right,” Dinah admits, “I feel like I’m burning out.”

Helena smiles and nods and bumps their foreheads together.

“Let me show you the plan.”

* * *

“A corkboard?” Dinah asks when she sees the plan neatly arranged on her bedroom wall.

“That was Montoya’s idea. She’s been helping me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she's coming back later. Said she wanted to check on you. So, let me run you through this!” Helena is weirdly enthusiastic about what they came up with, and Dinah… kinda likes seeing her like this. It’s new and hopeful, and it makes her heart swell a little.

“First, I downloaded a bunch of apps for food, laundry, and groceries - you can get anything delivered, did you know? So you don’t need to worry about that. Montoya gave me the contact of a cleaning company, and they’re fixing the place as we speak. There are fifteen rooms, three lounges, seven bathrooms, two kitchens and the garden at the back. It will take the whole week. Then there’s the basement, where I do my training. Montoya helped remove all the weapons, she said even if these people are her friends, I should probably keep my… hobbies hidden.”

Dinah chuckles and listens intently to Helena’s blabbing. She usually does most of the talking, so this is a nice change.

“Side note, the basement is soundproofed. You know, if you ever want to try your Canary Cry again.”

“Oh,” Dinah hadn’t thought about it. That new part of her still felt foreign. 

“No pressure though. It was just an idea” Helena adds, noticing her uneasiness “I’m also converting one of the rooms into a studio, so I… we can do homework on an actual desk.”

“Seems like you got it all sorted” Dinah comments “What about your wound?”

“A nurse will come to check it once a day, and Montoya got me a contact of a private and - she air quotes with one hand only - _very discreet_ medical centre. They’ll do an x-ray to check I don’t have splintered bones or bullet fragments in my shoulder.”

“Ew” Dinah grimaces and they both laugh. It feels light and delicate, almost domestic. Dinah thinks she could get used to it. 

“Can I still come to see you?”

“You don’t need an excuse to see me,” Helena says, but by the way Dinah drags her into a kiss without waiting for her answer, Helena figures the question was rhetorical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Ariar for the beta :D


	10. Under control

Dinah’s tongue never fails to send a spike of heat through Helena’s body. It’s sudden and pulls her in all different directions, leaving her completely disoriented. It’s not good, she thinks, to feel so floaty, to perceive the world fading around her. Kissing Dinah feels like taping a magnet to a compass and following its direction into a waterfall. It’s not good at all, Helena repeats herself, while another voice in her head argues that it’s in fact _so fucking good_.

Dinah pushes her hips gently, inviting her to sit on the mattress, then bends to kiss her again. It’s a little awkward, so Helena pulls her at the back of her knee to invite her closer. Dinah doesn’t resist. She straddles Helena’s legs and deepens their kiss, feeling a hand moving up her thigh and stopping shy of her butt. 

_We should wait_ , she repeats herself, yet her hand finds Helena’s wrist and guides it further. Helena moans a little when her fingers find the point where the curve of her body becomes fuller, then dip into the small of her back. Dinah’s body doesn’t have a single sharp edge and Helena wants to run its unbroken line with her fingertips a thousand times.

_Maybe we don’t have to wait_ , Dinah wonders next, hands on Helena’s hair, feeling her breath on her lips every time they part. It’s ragged and warm and Dinah loves that Helena’s always a little breathless when they kiss.

_Fuck waiting_ , she decides, then leans forward, pushing her body against-

“Ah ffff-!” Helena lets out, then a muffled sound that Dinah knows would be a ' _fuck'_ leaves her mouth despite her efforts to keep it in.

“Oh God I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Dinah brings her hands to her mouth, watching Helena’s head push against the mattress, her face twisting in pain. “I’m sorry, babe, I forgot about your shoulder” she repeats.

Helena’s still in pain but somehow her groan turns into a laugh. There are tears in her eyes and she’s twisting to one side but she’s laughing, so Dinah lets out a small laugh too. 

“It’s ok, it’s… uuuuuh” Helena breaths out, unable to focus on putting a sentence together, “I forgot about it too.”

Dinah slides back and stands up, freeing up Helena’s legs, giving her more space to adjust to a comfortable position.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Helena nods, wiping a tear, then she props herself up and laughs again, apparently finding the whole situation hilarious. And that’s weird enough for anyone, Dinah thinks, but for Helena? Maybe the pain was so strong she lost her mind entirely.

“Wait, you’re not mad?” Dinah checks, now familiar with Helena’s outbursts.

Helena pants a little, the pain in her shoulder fading slowly. Now that she thinks about it… is she not mad? She would normally be so _mad_.

“I’m not... you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Dinah argues. Helena had almost punched Montoya when she was trying to help her.

“Not with you,” Helena says, then finally sits up. Her laughter fades slowly and so does the pain.“Apparently you’re the one person I can’t get mad at,” she realises. Even when Dinah followed her into the warehouse and took her revenge from her, even when Helena got shot, she was never angry at her. 

Helena looks at her and Dinah has to restrain herself from jumping in her arms and cause a permanent injury. Luckily, the doorbell rings.

“I think it’s Montoya,” Helena explains, trying to stand up.

“I’ll get it, stay put,” Dinah orders, still feeling a little guilty. Before Helena can object, she’s out of the room and jogging to the door.

It is Montoya. Her stern demeanour softens immediately when she sees Dinah opening the door.

“Hey, kid,” she greets, taking off her aviators and smiling for the first time in weeks. Dinah immediately wraps her in a hug that she promptly reciprocates. It’s comforting and warm and Dinah can’t remember the last time she felt she could trust someone. 

“Sorry, about the…” Dinah doesn’t quite know how to refer to Montoya's bruised face, so she just points vaguely at it.

“It’s alright,” the cop comments, “how’s the hothead?” 

“Recovering.” 

Montoya lets out a small huff of agreement before knocking at Helena’s bedroom.

“Come in.”

Montoya walks in and gives Helena a long, suspicious look.

“You look better,” she grunts, then turns to Dinah and grabs her by the shoulder, “let’s catch up, shall we?”

“Oh… ok. There’s homework and a couple of books for you in my backpack,” Dinah manages to say to Helena before being dragged out of the room.

Helena sighs and makes her way to the backpack sitting in the corner. She struggles to open it one-handed, then grabs the notebook with colourful stickers marking the pages with the homework. It makes her smile. She pulls out the books: _To Kill a Mockingbird, 1984_ , and…

Helena stares at the third book with wide eyes. That's definitely not on the school reading list.

* * *

“This place is a fucking castle,” Montoya scoffs as the walk in the garden, then half-heartedly apologises once she catches herself swearing.

“Why are you so tough on Helena?” Dinah asks.

Montoya takes a deep breath and instinctively reaches for a flask that’s not in her pocket. Three weeks sober and the bad habits don’t seem to leave her. 

“She’s trouble,” is all she says. Dinah walks in silence, looking at the ground, eyebrow knitted in a frown. 

“You’re almost there, Dinah,” she continues, “you got good grades, a scholarship, a job… you can get into a good college. Don’t mess it up.”

“I’m not gonna mess up,” Dinah replies defensively, “and what’s Helena got to do with it?”

“You’re kidding, right? Girl's a walking time bomb. Goes around with a fucking crossbow. She can’t control her anger.”

“She can,” Dinah blurts out, “she’s getting better.”

“She’s dangerous, and a damn trouble magnet. Half of Gotham’s criminals are gonna be looking for her if they find out what happened.”

“I killed more people than her,” Dinah argues.

“Keep your voice down,” Montoya seethes, grabbing her by the wrist. “You didn’t plan it.”

“Correct. So if anyone can’t control her emotions, it’s me, not her.”

“It’s not the same thing. You were scared, and cornered, and alone, and-”

“It is exactly the same thing,” Dinah almost yells, freeing her arm from the cop's grip. Montoya’s taken aback by the girl’s reaction and doesn’t say anything.

“They took everything away from her, Renee. Her family, her whole world. Took her to the other side of the world. She was nine!” Dinah’s voice breaks a little.

The cop bites the inside of her cheek, then nods knowingly.

“God, you’re as stubborn as your mother,” she sighs. “You really care about her, uh?”

Dinah lets out a burst of nervous laughter and sniffles lightly, trying to hold back her tears.

“I love her.”

* * *

Going back to school is… different, Helena thinks. 

School had always been secondary in her life. Her revenge came first, everything else was a corollary. But now she’s back to being Helena Mattanza, high-school student with slightly higher than average grades and barely a friend in the whole building, and everything has shifted focus.

The spot Dinah finds for her car is on the far end of the parking lot. A few other students linger between a battered Ford and a shiny BMW. 

“Ready to go back?” Dinah asks.

“I think so,” Helena mumbles, but she feels off, like this is her first day all over again.

Dinah leans in to place a gentle peck on her lips, but Helena jerks back and looks around. Dinah gives her a questioning look.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t like to attract attention.”

Dinah takes a deep breath and hides her disappointment behind a smile. She pats Helena’s knee a couple of times.

“Alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Helena repeats.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not… out either, anyway. I guess it’s kind of a big step.”

Helena remains silent for a moment, then nods thoughtfully.

“Ladies!” Harley greets them, appearing like a spring clown outside Dinah’s door. Helena’s fist twitches instinctively, but she holds back from punching Harley right in the face. Dinah seems to notice and gives her a proud grin.

“Beefy, it’s so good to have you back!” Harley says to Helena, “hope the accident didn’t leave you too damaged to properly take care of our doll here.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and Helena’s frown deepens.

“Beefy?” she asks Dinah, “Accident?”

“Just go with it,” Dinah whispers, “I’ll explain later.”

“Take care?” Helena is utterly confused by Harley, but not more than usual if she’s being honest.

As they walk to the main entrance and Pamela joins them, Helena ponders over the wholly new experience of entering school in a group. Dinah and Pamela chat about biology while Harley rehearses her cartwheel in the middle of the corridor, missing a student by an inch. Helena follows quietly. 

She looks around warily, wondering if being in a group makes her more or less noticeable. She’s so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost bumps into Dinah, who’s abruptly stopped to talk to someone. 

“Oliver, you can’t ask me the same thing every single day.”

“You said we were on a break. A break is temporary.”

Oliver looks like he thinks he just formulated the most clever argument and Helena rolls her eyes.

“For the last time: I don't want to get back together,” Dinah says with a touch of irritation, but when she sees the hurt on his face she adds: “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” He insists.

“Oliver…”

“Hey, you heard her. She doesn’t owe you an explanation. Don’t put her on the spot like that.”

It’s Harley who spoke, placing herself between the two and giving Oliver a defiant look.

“Mind your business, freak,” he scoffs, pushing her aside.

“Beat it.” Helena’s voice behind Dinah is firm and threatening. Oliver instinctively takes a step back, the memory of her fist against his face still fresh. 

“You’re gonna regret this,” he mumbles as he turns around and almost runs to class.

* * *

The parking lot is empty during lunchtime. Helena thanks the driver who delivered her food and tips generously, ready to go back to the cafeteria. Dinah has decided to go with her and seems to have other ideas.

“We don’t have to go back immediately,” she points out, leaning against the hood of a car.

“It’ll get cold,” Helena comments as she’s pulled by the collar of her jacket. Dinah’s eyes dart to her lips for a moment before looking up to her eyes. She likes when Helena’s so close, towering over her. She can see a smile pulling Helena’s lips to one side, she can feel her body pressing against hers when she stops resisting her pull.

“I fucking knew it.” 

Oliver’s voice interrupts them and Helena almost jumps back. 

“What do you want?” Dinah asks, rolling her eyes. Her patience is running thin.

“Get off her,” Oliver raises his voice and pushes Helena, who brings a hand to her shoulder and groans in pain. 

“Leave her alone, she’s injured,” Dinah says, and immediately realises it’s a mistake. There’s a glint of cruelty in Oliver’s eyes, a smile, then he charges again. He pushes her once more and she falls to the ground, her shoulder throbbing in pain. Dinah throws herself in front of Helena and tries to calm Oliver down.

“Ollie, please go. This is none of your business.”

“None of my business? This fucking dyke is tryna kiss my girlfriend and it’s not my business?”

“I’m _not_ your girlfriend!”

Helena is back on her feet, and when Oliver sees her standing pushes Dinah to the side to throw a punch aimed at her stomach.

“Helena!” Dinah screams worriedly, but there’s no impact.

Somehow his fist has missed her and he’s now stumbling gracelessly, trying to stay upright. There’s a confident grin on Helena’s face as she cracks her neck and bounces once on her legs, balancing her weight. He turns and tries to punch again, eyes filled with rage. He doesn’t know Helena has spent countless hours training with both arms tied behind her back. She elegantly swerves, then kicks the inside of his foot just enough to make him lose balance and fall face-first on the concrete. He manages to stand back up, palms scraped by gravel.

Oliver lets out a yell and charges again, trying to tackle Helena to the ground. She steps aside, turns around one leg, and uses the momentum to place a solid kick on his back, sending him against a car and setting off the alarm. She twists his arm behind his back and presses his face against the glass. She feels him squirming under her grip as she pushes harder.

“I can do this all day,” she growls.

Helena’s breath hitches, her nostrils flare. Dinah knows those signs, she knows the fury in her eyes. She can see Helena’s leg move back, getting ready to strike and push a knee into his side. 

“Helena!” she calls. Her voice is firm yet full of kindness.

It’s like flipping a switch. 

Helena’s blind rage subsidies to a quiet, more controlled one. It’s still there, simmering, huffing through her nose, but it’s not in charge anymore. Dinah can almost see it kick back as Helena tries to control it, she witnesses the internal struggle. She brings a hand between her shoulder blades and calls her again.

“Helena.”

Helena blinks a couple of times, as if coming back from a dark place. She feels her heart rate slow down, her lungs fill to full capacity.

She releases Oliver and steps back. He takes a few uncertain steps to the side and screams something about lawyers, a few profanities, but they don’t listen, they don't even look at him. He doesn’t matter. 

“I knew you could control it,” Dinah says with a smile.

Helena looks more surprised than she is, but she nods, then smiles, and it feels good. For the first time, Helena thinks this time she doesn’t have to hate herself. She can control it, she can be the one in charge.

“That was kinda hot though,” Dinah admits, squeezing the arm that was holding Oliver down a minute ago.

Helena’s eyebrows shoot up, and _fuck being inconspicuous_ , she thinks, pulling Dinah into a kiss.

Oliver can only leave with his tail between his legs.


	11. Homework pays off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the smut.

Turns out, the best way to be inconspicuous in an American high school is to be as normal as possible. Wearing clothes that are not exclusively purple. Hanging out with a small group of friends. Not punching anyone. Having a girlfriend. 

Helena feels more invisible than ever and she doesn’t mind one bit. 

Days go by, then weeks. Her grades have improved, her shoulder has almost healed, habits have formed. Her new routine involves less bolt shooting and more time at the mall. She learns she enjoys thick milkshakes and barbecue ribs, the view of her garden covered in snow, the feeling of Dinah’s fingers massaging her scalp. 

She misses training, though, she misses the progress and the physical exhaustion. Her left arm is visibly thinner than her right one and Harley keeps calling her a tennis player. Helena thinks there may be a double entendre there, but can’t quite figure it out. So she’s pretty happy when the physiotherapist finally greenlights going back to the gym. 

* * *

Dinah prefers not having too much time to think. She’d rather dive headfirst into whatever life throws at her and be over with it. Thinking is paralyzing. And for the past three months, she’s been thinking about one thing: having sex with a girl. 

Not just any girl, of course. Specifically, having sex with her tall, hot, ripped girlfriend who is safe to assume doesn’t have any experience in the matter. Not that Dinah has any, either. But at least she’s got undressed in front of someone. She’s felt someone’s hand on her skin, she’s… she’s done stuff, ok? She’s not completely clueless.

In the beginning, it was hard to keep her hands for herself. Real hard. They found themselves panting in bed more than a couple of times, arousal written all over their faces. Dinah wanted to do at least _something,_ but Helena had insisted on doing it _properly._ She wanted to be fully recovered. 

Dinah doesn’t want to push, she actually likes the idea of making it special. As time passes, however, doubt creeps in and she starts overthinking.

Who is she kidding? She wonders. Her experience with Oliver is mostly irrelevant. She has no idea how to touch a woman! Oliver was confident and he’s failed miserably. Now she’s supposed to set the bar for Helena? 

In the span of three months, she’s gone from “I can’t wait to jump her bones” to “this is absolutely terrifying.”

She feels guilty about it, but she’s kinda glad Helena’s shoulder is taking some time to recover.

* * *

“Hey babe, look at this.” 

Helena’s fitted a horizontal metal bar within her door frame and is pointing at it. She grabs the bar with both hands and pulls herself up three times before jumping to the ground. She flexes her left arm, showing off her fully recovered arm muscles, a satisfied smile on her face. The scar on her shoulder peeks behind the vest she’s wearing, still pink and tender, but fully healed. 

“Wow,” Dinah lets out, a little surprised. She hadn’t realised Helena’s already fully recovered. 

“I started exercising three weeks ago,” Helena explains, “wanted it to be a surprise.”

Dinah pushes down the vaguely ominous feeling at the bottom of her stomach and lets happiness take over.

“That’s… amazing!” she smiles, then laughs, and it’s genuine and full of relief. She runs to Helena and wraps her in a tight hug that’s finally, _finally_ reciprocated with the same strength. “Is it really over? Full mobility, no pain?” Dinah asks.

“One hundred per cent,” Helena beams, “I’m like brand new.”

Dinah kisses her and it feels new, unrestrained. Helena lowers just enough to hook her arms below her butt and lifts her from the ground, spinning gently without breaking their kiss. When they part, there’s a spark in her eyes: Dinah has seen it before, but this time it’s not hiding behind caution. 

And Dinah thinks it’s a little weird, a little out of character for Helena to be so upfront, yet she lets her take her hand and pull gently towards the bedroom. Helena raises her eyebrows as an invitation and a question at the same time. Dinah nods because how can she not? She’s been waiting for this for months, she's not going to miss her chance, even if her heart is thumping so loud in her chest she thinks it may explode, even if she feels an odd anxiety build up inside. 

_What if it sucks?_ A voice whispers in her head. 

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because Helena has picked her up, bridal style, and is carrying her to her bed.

“I’ve been wanting to do this,” she says, and Dinah thinks _God me too,_ but she doesn’t quite say it, she just lets out a titter that reveals her nervous excitement. She feels small in Helena’s arms and she’s surprised to find that she likes it. 

Helena lowers her onto the mattress, gently, then climbs on top of her and leans down for a kiss. Dinah breathes in her scent, cupping her face, holding her. They’ve made out of that bed countless times, slowly, carefully, learning each other’s pace. Dinah knows today will be different, but it still feels familiar. Helena doesn’t rush, she picks up from where they left last time, when her hands had wandered over Dinah’s stomach, on her back, down her arms. 

It calms Dinah’s nerves a little.

 _This is new,_ she thinks, noticing how Helena’s hands move confidently to new places, how the blinds are opened just enough to let a dim light in, how she’s not wearing socks - Helena always wears socks, she doesn’t like being barefoot. But there’s a hand crawling up her t-shirt, stroking over her bra - delicate but undeniably intentional - and Dinah doesn’t have time to think about those small details.

“Is this ok?” Helena checks and _God she’s doing everything right,_ Dinah thinks, nodding eagerly, feeling the arousal building up.

Helena slips a hand under her underwire, finding soft skin and the cold, hard metal bit she expects, yet is not entirely ready for. 

“Uh!” Dinah lets out, not expecting her skin to be so sensitive, to feel so electric.

Helena sucks a breath in then dips her head to leave a trail of kisses on Dinah’s neck, her hand playing gently with her nipple, dragging little moans out of her mouth. 

_What is happening?_ Dinah wonders, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She thought she’d be the one in charge, but all she can do is dig her nails into Helena’s back, holding onto her while her touch becomes more confident. 

Helena pulls away just for the time it takes to take Dinah’s t-shirt off, not before silently asking for a permission that Dinah’s quick to grant. There’s a moment, Dinah thinks, when Helena’s breath stutters and halts at the sight of her half-naked body. A moment of pure awe. Dinah’s never felt so beautiful.

She lifts herself just enough to unhook her bra and watches Helena stare as she takes it off, she can see her mouthing a quick ‘ _fuck’_ and zone out for a second. Dinah watches her shake her head to regain focus. It’s sweet, a glimpse of vulnerability Dinah’s almost missed.

Because Helena moves like she knows what she’s doing, and Dinah wonders _how? How does she know? Has she been with someone before?_

Her jeans are on the floor and Helena’s hands are on her legs, thumbs stroking her hip bones, nervous, shaking. She looks up, swallows. Searches for a sign in Dinah’s eyes.

_It’s happening._

Dinah nods. Helena closes her eyes to gather enough nerve to pull the small bit of fabric down. It’s slow and careful and Dinah feels entirely exposed. Once the panties are gone, she pulls Helena up by her vest and hastily takes it off, happy to find nothing underneath. Helena presses their bodies together and for a moment the world is made of them and nothing else. 

It's soft and warm and bare in a way neither of them has ever been nor experienced before. It feels so intimate and sacred they could almost stop there. Almost.

Helena breaks their moment of tender devotion, dropping her weight to one side slips an arm under Dinah’s back. It’s swift and resolute, almost planned, yet there’s a trepidation in her eyes - her eyes that are now staring right into Dinah’s, demanding a moment of undivided attention.

“I love you.” 

It’s not a whisper, but it’s not much more than that. Helena’s voice is low but steady. Determined. 

"I love you," she echoes, and there's not a single shred of doubt in her. 

Dinah feels a sense of calm bliss washing over her, reaching the deepest part of her soul - and when Helena’s hand reaches between her legs and finds liquid pleasure pooled at their crossing, her mind enters a whole new realm.

“ _Oh God_ ,” she calls, dropping her head back.

Time stops for a moment or an hour, Dinah can’t be sure. All she knows is that her body has never been this alive, every inch sparkling with electricity, muscles tensing and relaxing in tune with the fingers curling inside her. 

It suddenly becomes _more_ and Dinah’s brain manages to conjure the concept of a thumb, rubbing circles around a very specific spot that other people have always somehow missed. It makes her entire body twitch with pleasure.

“Helena,” she calls next, burying her hand in her hair, arching her back. Helena looks up and finds her mouth wide open, long, shaky breaths dragging in and out. Helena responds to her prayer by taking her lower lip in her mouth, sucking gently, stroking it softly with her tongue. 

Every breath Dinah takes is followed by a soft, desperate noise. It goes right to Helena’s head. She wants to feel it right against her teeth, she wants to taste the sweetness of that sounds. She steadies her arm around Dinah’s waist and lifts her just enough to press a little deeper, dragging a long moan out of her.

There are _so many things_ she wants to do to her, so many places her mouth could explore. Helena reminds herself it’s not about the destination but the journey and all that stuff, but God nothing’s ever felt so good around her fingers, nothing’s ever been so intoxicating as Dinah’s hot breath against her skin. She can’t risk changing position, she can’t break the spell, not when Dinah pleads: “ _yes, yes, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop!”_

And just as Helena wonders how she can tell when it’s over, Dinah’s body jolts up, legs shaking in sync with her breath, followed by the most wonderful sound Helena's ever heard. She feels a pulse around her fingers as she watches Dinah's eyes stare into nothing as if lost somewhere far and wonderful.

She can almost see her coming back. Dinah’s panting lightly and looks just as stunned as her. She covers her mouth with a hand, as to say: _I really made that sound, huh?_ And then they both laugh softly, relieved because _it didn’t suck, not in the least._

Helena finally pulls her fingers out, dragging another shuddering breath out of Dinah, and they laugh again, then kiss, then laugh some more, because finding how their bodies fit and react is the most exhilarating thing. 

Dinah wraps her arms around Helena, feeling she’s not close enough and is never going to be. For a moment she wishes they weren’t two separate beings at all. Harley told her that’s normal, that’s how orgasms work, they mess with your head and your sense of self, but no amount of self-awareness can rationalise the feeling of being absolutely lost into Helena’s arms right now.

“That was…” Dinah breaks the silence they’re in but trails off almost immediately. Nothing feels adequate, but somehow she needs to voice what she’s just experienced. Helena gives her a concerned look and Dinah understands she needs to finish the sentence somehow. 

“...so good.”

Ok, it’s even less eloquent than what she was hoping, but when Helena beams it really doesn’t matter.

“How did you-” Dinah clears her throat, realising her question is going to expose all her insecurities, “you know, how did you know what to do?” 

“I practised a lot,” Helena admits.

Dinah's face falls, her heart sinking through her chest. 

“O-oh, I thought… you’d never, you know- That was stupid, I guess.” 

“The book helped.”

“The book?” Dinah frowns.

“Yeah, the one you gave me. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known where to start otherwise. Pretty comprehensive stuff.”

“Wait a goddamn minute...” Dinah quickly figures out what book Helena’s talking about. She had completely forgotten about it - _what’s it been, three months?_ “So when you say you've practised, you mean with someone or…?”

“N-no, I mean… you know,” Helena’s swallows and makes a vague gesture that doesn't mean much, but her sudden embarrassment clears things up for Dinah. 

She laughs at the thought of Helena masturbating _for research purposes,_ or as Harley would probably say _, wanking for science._

“God, I thought… not that it would be a problem if you had slept with someone before we met, of course, but you said I was your first kiss and I assumed- you know what, it doesn’t matter.” She leans in to kiss her and Helena figures whatever she was trying to say can’t be that important.

“I have a confession to make,” Dinah says when they part, “I haven’t read the book.”

“But I thought-”

“Harley gave it to me and it got mixed up with homework. Then you took it and I kinda… forgot about it.”

“Oooooh,” Helena lets out, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah, so… you’re well ahead of me right now.”

“Riiight,” Helena says, now a little cocky.

“Right.” Dinah confirms.

“I guess I could… show you a couple of things?” Helena proposes.

“I guess you could,” Dinah admits. 

* * *

Helena’s a good student, that’s for sure. Diligent, methodic, definitely can put theoretical concepts into practice. As it turns out, she’s also a great teacher. It’s not just the more technical aspect she’s taken in and is now explaining, which Dinah has to say it’s pretty damn impressive. She’s surprisingly reassuring and manages to make Dinah feel comfortable and safe. 

Dinah realises she's also pretty detail-oriented. Light dim enough to soften the atmosphere, yet bright enough to see? Check. Heating turned on a few hours earlier, so they don’t freeze once they’re undressed? Check. Freshly brushed teeth? Check. Wet wipes at hand? Extra pillows? Water bottle? Check, check, check. Helena wasn’t joking when she said she wanted to do things properly.

Dinah can’t quite get over the mental image of Helena going through the book chapter by chapter, taking notes, trying some stuff out on herself. She’s seen her study and is not surprised one bit by her dedication. When Helena puts her mind to something there’s really nothing stopping her.

Whatever she couldn’t quite practice, for obvious reasons, they get to try out together. Dinah’s the first to dip her tongue where Helena’s most sensitive and gets to watch her squirm in pleasure from a fantastic point of view. She doesn’t quite get why Oliver refuses to do it, it’s the best damn thing and does not, in any way, taste as weird as he seemed to imply. It tastes goddamn amazing. 

Helena’s quieter than her and manages to hold back her moans right until the end, but Dinah remembers Pamela’s words: listen to her. She pays attention to every twitch, every breath, every gentle nudging Helena gives her. It’s really not that complicated, after all, to get Helena to unravel messily under her touch. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know deathboytm has just posted another HS US but in my defense I started writing this before they posted! I also think they will be pretty different, so.
> 
> This was the original prompt:  
> "High School AU? Helena as the new kid every one thinks is super scary, but she just doesn't know how to talk to people, Dinah as the popular girl who takes pity on her." but as usual do I listen? no. It's a little different but still on brief I think.
> 
> I have never been to an American high school so if I get some stuff wrong... let me know but also there will be for sure. 
> 
> I have an idea of where this is going y'all have to pray God I manage to get to the end of this.
> 
> Leave a comment!


End file.
